Lightning Strikes Twice
by beyondthesea1
Summary: A terrifyingly powerful weapon is constructed, one that could wreak havoc on the world. Can Nelson stop it in time?
1. Chapter 1

_This was previously posted to Uncharted Waters. It was written in 1999 and was my very first Voyage fic. Since UW went bye-bye, I'm reposting here. This introduces my OC, Kate Manning. Admiral Nelson and the characters from Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea do not belong to me. I get nothing from this but the fun of giving Harry a love life._

* * *

**LIGHTNING STRIKES TWICE**

The dark blue Mercedes 450SL pulled into the circle drive and rolled to a stop in front of the two-car garage. "How about a nightcap?" Dr. Kathleen Manning asked without wanting to look too eager yet hoping the dashing man in the dark Naval uniform would say yes.

Admiral Harriman Nelson started to say something about it being a long drive back to Santa Barbara but a prolonged glance at the beautiful woman next to him and he quickly pushed the thought away. Besides, in thirty-six hours he and the crew of the _Seaview_ were setting sail and although it was to be a relatively short trip, it might take another year before Kate's schedule was compatible with his again. "I'd love one." The admiral shut off the engine and popped open his door.

Kate's discerning eyes followed him as he passed in front of the car and came around to open her door. There was something about a man in uniform she found hard to resist-particularly this man. Kate linked her arm through his. "Did I tell you how handsome you look tonight?" she asked, casting an appreciative eye in his direction while flashing a naturally beguiling smile.

The admiral accepted the compliment rather sheepishly. "I think I'm the one who should be paying out the compliments." He followed her into the house, shutting the door as she switched on two very soft lights. Something big and furry jumped off the sofa and skulked across the floor, vanishing into a pocket of darkness.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll just be a minute," she said, disappearing into what he assumed was the kitchen.

The admiral removed his cap, absentmindedly twirling it in his hand as he perused the living room. It was a dark, rustic, comfortable room, almost masculine with its deep red, bright gold and rich hunter green color accented by oak trim and complimented by a large, stone fireplace and overstuffed sofa and chairs. He liked it immediately, not because of its colors and patterns, but because it was Kate—undeniably feminine yet strong, assertive and intelligent. And somehow this room personified all those traits. His eyes fell upon a simple gold frame resting on a side table. Tossing his cap aside, he picked up the photo, a thoughtful grin playing at his lips.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as she entered the room, "I had to feed the animals." Placing her hand on his back, she peered over his shoulder. "You were a Lieutenant Commander then."

Nelson thought back, remembering clearly the day the picture was taken. "I had just been given my first sub command and we were getting ready to sail."

"I had the biggest crush on you," she remembered with a whimsical sigh.

He cocked an eyebrow and passed her a sideways glance. "You think I didn't know?"

She pulled away quickly, a look of mock indignation flooding her green eyes. "And you never did anything about it? I was miserable that whole summer."

"You were barely twenty-one and in your final year at Cal Tech," he retorted. "Your father would've killed me."

She conceded his point, impressed that he remembered. "You know, Dad was always very proud of you. And a little envious."

He carefully replaced the picture. "Envious? Why?"

"Oh, I think Dad always wanted a sub command, something you got when you were a Lieutenant Commander. But the kicker would have been these." She tugged at the four stars on his shirt collar. "To be an admiral at your age is quite an accomplishment. Dad was forty-eight and still a captain when he died. He had a long way to go."

"Your father earned his rank the hard way," he started to say, downplaying his own achievements. "What he accomplished in his short life is nothing to frown at."

"I know. But I still think he was envious. I can only imagine what he'd think now. I mean, admiral at forty-nine, _Seaview_, the Institute…"

"He'd say," Nelson lowered his voice and boomed out in his best impersonation of Sam Manning, "Harry, what the hell do you mean squandering all your time and money on some convoluted idea!"

Kate laughed at his dead-on imitation of her father. "That's probably what he'd say but you know, he'd have been your biggest supporter."

"Yes, he would have," he agreed.

"How about that drink?" she asked. "Scotch, neat as I recall."

"You recall correctly," he answered, peeling off his jacket and tugging at the knot of his tie. She picked up his cap and took the jacket and tie then disappeared a second time. This time he wandered through the French doors onto the veranda.

The veranda, as he quickly discovered, opened directly onto the beach, the sound of rushing water crashing against rocks, filling the darkness, the light of a nearly full moon reflecting off the water. As he stepped into the warm, sea air something caught his eye. Perched upon the railing and trying its best to look disinterested, sat one of the "animals" Kate had mentioned: a large Burmese cat, its tail swishing back and forth erratically as the cat carefully washed its left paw. The movements were so precise, so gentle that Nelson found himself transfixed by the motion, so much so that he failed to hear Kate's footsteps. The touch of her hand upon his shoulder sent a noticeable shiver up his spine.

"You've met Chester, I see," her voice came as a whisper in his ear.

"Chester?"

She handed him the scotch. "Like the admiral, Nimitz. Bull's around here somewhere. He's the friendly one."

"Bull? Halsey?" He accepted the glass.

"Yup. Harry ran away when I moved out here last year." She raised her own glass to her lips, alluring green eyes almost daring him to look away. "He never did like commitment."

Nelson, meeting her challenge, raised an eyebrow in a curious grin. Slowly, he lowered his glass. "Any similarities..." He took the glass from her hand and placed it with his on a small table.

She moved closer, hips touching, lips mere centimeters apart. "Are purely coincidental."

They met in a prolonged, passionate kiss that ended with Nelson slowly easing away, a short, incredulous laugh escaping as he leaned against the railing.

"That wasn't quite the reaction I expected," Kate responded a little disheartened.

The admiral shook his head as he absently smoothed the hair over his right ear, "Oh, no," he answered uneasily, almost flustered, "it's definitely the reaction you expected." There was something about her, some sensual force she exerted over him that made him powerless against her. He didn't mind really.

Kate smiled seductively, "then I hope I persuaded you to drive back tomorrow morning."

His eyes locked onto hers. "You did," he answered, wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her to him.

~oOo~

Kate, nestled in the crook of his arm, absently traced the thick, half moon scar on his shoulder with a perfectly manicured finger. "You know what I said earlier about having a crush on you?"

"Uh, huh," he answered with lazy contentment. He hadn't felt this relaxed in months.

"It wasn't the whole truth."

"It wasn't?"

"Nope. Truth is I still have a crush on you."

"You do?"

"Yup." She propped herself up on one elbow, intense green eyes focused on his.

"I'm flattered." He casually stroked the silky smoothness of her back.

"You should be." Her finger traced the rough dimple in his chin.

"I hope this makes up for making you miserable all those years."

Kate thought a moment. "A half dozen more nights like this and I might call it a draw."

"Only half a dozen?"

"I don't want to press my luck."

He lightly kissed her shoulder, her neck; felt the responsive arch of her back. "Why don't we make it at least a dozen?"

"I don't know. At the rate we're going it'll take us another twelve years to make a dozen." Her voice was light and laced with optimism but he knew what she really meant. And she was absolutely right.

As happy and content as they both were at that moment, each knew it wouldn't last. It never did. Tomorrow, he would drive back to Santa Barbara and Kate would be immersed in her next assignment. Who knew when they could steal another evening together?

Her face clouded over like that of a small child denied a favorite toy. "I hate that this night has to end, I hate that you have to leave tomorrow and I hate that we probably won't see each other for another twelve months."

"Is that all?" he asked with an expectant raise of the eyebrow.

"Well, no but that's all I have at this moment. I'm sure I'll think of more if you give me time."

Nelson brushed an errant strand of dark hair away from her face. "You're feeling pretty negative this evening, aren't you?"

A devilish grin playing at her lips, "Yes. I hate that."

"Maybe we should press our advantage," he replied with a laugh, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer for an involved, eager kiss. Then, slowly pulling the blanket over their heads, they chortled and caroused and made love again.

~oOo~

It was twenty past two in the morning and Kate couldn't sleep. Part of it was the unfamiliarity of having someone in her bed; the other was the unsettled feeling she always had after seeing Harry. Their moments together, fleeting at most, never failed to leave her longing for more. She had isolated herself from any possibility of another suitor and yet she knew they would never really be more than fortuitous lovers. Harry had never tried to deceive her, had never promised her anything more.

From the moment he received the letter informing him that the project had been approved, _Seaview_ and the Institute consumed him, monopolizing his thoughts, his existence. She had unwittingly become an afterthought; an expendable commodity brushed to the back burner of a failing flame, eclipsed by an entity with which she could not compete. It became painfully obvious to Kate that any woman in Harry's life would have to be content with being the other woman, the mistress, something, even after all these years, she still wasn't prepared to embrace.

Afraid her constant shifting would disturb him, she kissed his shoulder lightly then carefully extricated herself from his side, slipping out of the warmth of the bed and into her robe. Drawing the garment up against the chill of the night air, she quietly shuffled her way onto the veranda where the sound of the surf would relax her mind.

Rolling over, running his hand across the warm void, Nelson immediately woke. When after several lingering minutes she didn't return, he fumbled for his trousers and went in search of her, finding her reclining on the chaise, pensively staring beyond the sea. "You okay?" he asked, blue eyes passively searching her face for any signs of unease.

"I couldn't sleep. I was afraid I'd wake you so I came out here." An ironic smile crossed her lips, "Looks like I woke you." Noticing his disheveled appearance, her smile broadened. It only made him more attractive.

Admiral Harriman Nelson wasn't exactly a handsome man. Rugged was the word she would have used. But he definitely possessed an appeal to women. Maybe it was the warm blue eyes that fixed and focused so intently or the commanding way he spoke in a voice as smooth as velvet or the gruff exterior that belied a sensitive inner core. Whatever it was, it had certainly held her attention for more years than she cared to remember.

Sturdily built with a bit of a paunch that confirmed his solid descent into middle age, he was still remarkably fit for a man on the cusp of his fiftieth birthday. As he leaned casually against the railing, her eyes focused on the light carpeting of reddish-brown hair on the tight, muscular chest, the freckles dotting the sinewy shoulders, the compact biceps.

Her eyes drifted, fixed inquisitively on the small, slightly raised, star-shaped scar low on his ribs. She hadn't noticed it before. Her father had carried a similar scar on his abdomen, a little more faded perhaps. A reminder of the horrors of war, he had once told her. Unlike her father's this one was still pink, as if age hadn't a chance to dull it yet. Could it have been recent? She was definitely curious but like the other scars that graced his body, she wouldn't ask.

If he noticed her preoccupation, he didn't let on. "No," he answered, stabbing one hand in his pocket and shaking his head. "I couldn't sleep either."

"I wonder if we were both thinking about the same thing."

Somehow, he doubted it. "That depends," he began, rubbing the back of his head. "What were you thinking?"

"Us, tonight, oh, I don't know…everything."

Her answer disconcerted him. He had expected her to say a complex algorithm or theory, something he knew about, had troubled her. This was heading towards a conversation about relationships—something that actually terrified him. Tiny beads of perspiration laced his upper lip as he shifted nervously. Here he was, Admiral Harriman Nelson, architect of the greatest submarine ever built, founder of the Nelson Institute of Marine Research, a man who in his lifetime had faced perils other men could never imagine, actually paralyzed with fear. He could resolve any number of the world's problems but when it came to relationships, he just didn't have a clue. "Well, uh, what exactly," he stammered, absently stroking the hair above his right ear, "has you, um, troubled?"

Acquiesced to her fate, she sighed heavily, "It'll never progress beyond this."

Feeling a little relieved, "And that's what's bothering you?"

Slowly nodding in the affirmative, she couldn't help but let the pessimism creep into her voice. "Isn't it always? Our entire relationship, if that's what you call it, comes down to stealing an evening…a night…every twelve months or so. It will never be any more than this. I want more of you, Harry, more than just one night a year. I guess it comes back to the same old thing." She shrugged passively, "I don't know."

Mulling over her words, he was silent for a long time. He had known Kate Manning since she was an awkward fifteen-year-old and he was a twenty-eight-year-old Lieutenant. Her father, Sam Manning, had been his first commanding officer and one of his closest friends. Kate had always been a headstrong, independent young woman; characteristics that were probably encouraged having been raised as a Navy brat by a widowed father. Nelson always knew Kate was abnormally fond of him but he generally dismissed it as a schoolgirl crush. He had always thought of Kate as sort of a second little sister. After all, she was closer in age to his own sister, Edith, than she was to him.

He hadn't seen her since her father's funeral. She was nearly 30 then and had just been accepted to the Center for Advanced Research. Nelson had been temporarily assigned to the Center while a series of stress tests were conducted on a new innovation, X-hardened Herculite. He had barely recognized her when she had literally bumped into him in the corridor. Strikingly beautiful with shoulder length dark hair, fierce green eyes framed by long, dark lashes, full, inviting lips and curves in all the right places, she had taken his breath away. Dinner that evening was the beginning of a brief but intense affair ending five months later with the completion of his work at the Center. They had spent a long weekend together that concluded with his abrupt announcement. He had received the letter he was waiting for and the following day he would be on his way to Washington to begin a long bout with the bureaucrats concerning the development of his brainchild, the research submarine _Seaview_.

In the years that followed, his time became precious, broken engagements became commonplace and the distance between them, conspicuous. Kate hadn't exaggerated. Their entire so-called relationship had come down to a fleeting rendezvous whenever it was convenient. And for the past few years, it just hadn't been convenient. He knew she wanted something more tangible and when it came right down to it so did he. But the pursuit of something more tangible, more substantial, would require sacrifices he just wasn't prepared to make. Kate knew she would always finish a distant second in an imaginary race. Still, it continued to be a running joke between them but he knew the cut went deeper with her.

"Kate," he began, desperately trying to think of something more to say.

Kate smiled resignedly, stopping him before he could start, providing the answer to her own quandary. "Harry, I do love you but," she finished, "we've been down this road before."

"You're right." It was very nearly an audible sigh of relief. He didn't know why he felt so apprehensive. She had always been a very sensible woman.

Watching her now, looking at him with that familiar, amused expression, he realized he had never stopped loving her. Yes, the intensity had lost some of its sheen, dulled by years of neglect, but it had never really died. He had felt it earlier: in the restaurant, in the car, on the veranda and most definitely in the bedroom. Indeed, the intensity had returned with a vengeance.

Motioning for her to lean forward, he slid in behind her. Sitting in tandem on the chaise, she nestled comfortably against him, resting her head against his shoulder, welcoming his arms as they wrapped around her. "Still," she sighed, "I suppose I'd rather have a few fleeting moments with you than not have you at all."

It was the answer he wanted to hear. Nelson smiled contentedly, happy that he had almost inadvertently circumvented the rough water, and kissed the top of her head. Listening to the lull of the sea, lying cozily on the chaise, it didn't take long until both found peaceful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

It was just after the sun had worked its way above the horizon that the admiral felt something relentlessly poking his ribs. Drowsily reckoning it to be Kate's elbow, he brushed it off. When the pressure became almost painful, he slowly stirred. Opening his eyes and finding himself looking up at an unfamiliar face, he bolted upright, jolting Kate at the same time.

"Harry, what's the…" Immediately noticing the gun leveled at his chest, she stifled a cry.

The man holding the gun motioned sharply. "Both of you, get up!" Obediently, they got to their feet, Kate adjusting her robe, Nelson standing protectively in front of her. Eyeing Kate salaciously, a grin formed on the gunman's hardened face.

A second man suddenly appeared, sticking the barrel of his gun against the admiral's neck. "Move aside," he ordered. Defiantly standing his ground, Nelson wasn't about to budge. Impatiently, the man drew back the hammer. "I said, move aside."

Nelson set his jaw and growled between clenched teeth, "No."

Kate, horrified as she realized what was about to happen, put her hand on Harry's arm, feeling the tension that pulsed through his body. "It's okay," she said, stepping away from him.

"She's a very smart girl," the first gunman spoke with a heavy indiscernible accent. "It's not our intention to hurt you, Admiral Nelson, but if you leave us no choice, understand that neither I nor Marco will hesitate to kill you."

Nelson started to take a step forward only to be held in check by Marco. "If you lay one finger on her…."

"What admiral? You really are in no position to make threats, are you? Let's be sensible, shall we?" The man glanced cautiously over his shoulder then walked deliberately towards Kate. Standing before her, he slowly brought the gun up, using the cold barrel to trace the outline of her robe. Kate felt the fear coursing through her but was determined to maintain her composure.

Inwardly seething, Nelson clenched his fists in frustrated anger. He was helpless, only able to watch as the man slowly pulled back the loose material. Kate bit her lip as the palm of his hand brushed across her then seized her. Nelson's temper exploded. With lightning speed, he brought up his knee, catching Marco in the groin, instantly doubling the man over. In a coup de grace, he brought his elbow down hard on the back of the man's neck, sending him to the floor. Surprised by the commotion, the gunman turned away from Kate as the admiral lunged at him. Nelson cuffed the gunman with a powerful cross, hurtling the man into the railing that surrounded the veranda. Rebounding furiously, the gunman countered with a wild punch that missed the admiral by inches. A smashing right hook sent the man crashing to the floor with a thud. With both men down, Nelson reached for Kate's arm. A sharp gasp from her and he wheeled just in time to see the arcing motion of the raised hand. As the butt of the gun cracked the side of his head, Nelson fell heavily onto the wooden floor.

"Send idiots to do a simple job!" the man hissed in disgust. Kate, all color drained from her face and desperately fighting to control her rising fear, watched this new man with the guarded respect one gave a poisonous snake. Sensing she was close to panic, he cooed regretfully as he stepped over the admiral's prone body, "My dear, please do accept my apologies for any discomfort Karl may have caused you by his actions."

Kate, numbed by all that had transpired, could only nod her head dutifully. She wanted to close her eyes and make the nightmare disappear but looking at Nelson crumpled on the floor, she knew it was all too real.

"My dear," the man cautiously approached her, his hand extended, "why don't you go and get dressed. Please know that the telephones have been temporarily disconnected and I have men outside who, like Karl, are very short on manners. So, please don't do anything foolish like our gallant admiral here. If you cooperate, I assure you, nothing will happen to him or to you." Kate nodded her head in understanding and carefully made her way through the house. Just before disappearing into her bedroom, the man called out, "Oh, Dr. Manning, would you be so good as to bring the rest of Admiral Nelson's clothes as well." He displayed his most charming grin until she was gone then kicked Marco hard in the legs as Karl slowly stumbled to his feet. "Idiots! Buffoons! I told you to keep your hands off the woman." Karl tested his jaw then staggered past Nelson and helped Marco to his feet. "Clean this place up. I want no trace of our having been here."

Passing over the silk blouse and straight skirt of the previous evening, Kate struggled into a pair of khakis, her hands trembling as she fastened the buttons to the denim shirt. Trying to control errant sobs, her fear turned to concern then anger. If she were going to be any one's captive, she certainly wasn't going to entice them. An impatient knock on the door and that serpent's voice asking if she were all right hastened her out of the brief bout of emotions. Slipping on a pair of boots and grabbing the admiral's shirt and shoes, she threw open the bedroom door.

"Ah, there you are," the man greeted as she came into the living room. Taking the admiral's things from her, he handed them to Marco. "Get these on him and get him into the car." The man urged her to follow him.

With renewed strength, Kate asked, "Where are you taking us?"

"My dear doctor," the man rebuked, "you do so disappoint me. I had hoped for something a tad more original from you than just _where are you taking us_?"

Kate crossed her arms, "But then again, I might just want to know where you are taking us."

The man gave her reply some thought, a slight grin playing at his thick lips. "Yes, I see your point. It wouldn't be prudent for me to answer that question at this juncture but in a matter of time I will answer all your questions."

~oOo~

In the back seat of the large, black sedan Nelson slowly regained consciousness. It took him a few minutes to clear his head, to realize the warm body he was leaning against was Kate's and that the drone he heard was the sound of a car engine. It wasn't until he sat upright, his head throbbing from the lump above his right temple, that he remembered the course of events. Wincing as he fingered the welt, he leaned his head back against the seat.

"Here, take this," the man offered a handkerchief to Kate. He had positioned himself on the bench seat directly facing the admiral and Dr. Manning while Marco and Karl occupied the front seat.

Kate took the handkerchief and wiped the stream of blood from the side of Harry's head. Instinctively, he pulled away from the treatment then slowly eased back. She brushed the hair away from the cut and dabbed it with the cloth. "Are you okay?" she whispered.

No, he wasn't okay, he thought bitterly. He was angry with himself and his head was throbbing. Frowning and closing his eyes, he merely nodded.

"I would like to apologize for the rather extreme greeting, Admiral Nelson. However, given your disposition at the time, I fear it was my only recourse. If things had really gotten out of control, you might have been shot and that really wasn't my intention."

"I'll thank you later, if you don't mind." He took the handkerchief from Kate and held it to his head.

"As a gentleman, I would also like you to know I did offer my apologies to Dr. Manning in the context of Karl's behavior. But as you were unconscious at the time, you weren't party to it. So, I offer it again."

Nelson bit his lip in a tight scowl. He wasn't at all interested in anything this man had to say if it didn't involve an explanation of who they were and what they wanted. "I don't suppose you'd mind telling us who you are and what you want?" He lowered the handkerchief satisfied the bleeding had stopped.

"Yes, I suppose I do have you at a slight disadvantage. You see, I know you, Admiral Nelson, although your reputation makes it nearly impossible not to know you. And Dr. Manning, not only do I know you, you know me. However, I expect I'm not really anyone who would leave an indelible mark on someone." The man smiled a cold, tight-lipped smile that made Kate's skin crawl. "Does the _Albemarle_ ring a bell?"

~oOo~

Lee Crane entered Admiral Nelson's office with an uncharacteristic flair. "Hiya, Angie!"

He started to give a perfunctory knock on the admiral's door when Angie stopped him. "Sorry, Lee but he's not in yet. There was a message waiting this morning. He decided to stay overnight in San Diego and was going to drive up first thing this morning. He said he planned to be here in time for the budget review at 10:30."

Lee looked at his watch. "It's still early. He's probably sitting in traffic." Angie nodded in agreement. "And if he is caught in traffic, I really don't want to be here when he gets in." The two shared a laugh. The admiral's impatience and mercurial disposition were renown at the Institute.

"How about I tell him you stopped by? After his meeting with Admiral Hewitt, I'm sure he'll be anxious to talk to you."

"Well, he knows where to find me." Lee flashed a dashing smile as he disappeared out the door.

~oOo~

Nelson was the first to react, although he could tell the name wasn't entirely lost on Kate. "The _Albemarle_ sunk 270 miles off the coast of the Hawaiian Islands."

"It was Kauai to be exact."

"If I remember correctly," Nelson taxed his memory, "the Coast Guard's investigation found that a bomb caused the explosion that ripped through the _Albemarle_. The boat was blown apart in a matter of seconds."

"Yes, a single timed detonator set just between the number 1 and number 2 diesel oil tanks."

Nelson reacted with immediate contempt, his eyes narrowing accusingly. "It was you."

From the moment she heard that name, _Albemarle_, Kate desperately tried to recall the events preceding the incident. She was all too familiar with the _Albemarle_ and the explosion that killed her friend and mentor, Dr. Elliot Mankin, as well as his associates, noted electrical engineers, Drs. Owen Cresswell and Colin Howe. What she had difficulty remembering were the circumstances that led to their presence on the boat.

Nearly five years ago: she had been shocked and alarmed to learn of the unexpected dismissal of Dr. Elliot Mankin. Mankin had been a quiet man, reserved, extremely introvert and a phenomenally brilliant physicist. He was the last person she would have ever suspected to be involved in such a premeditated scheme. And yet, the evidence was overwhelming.

Mankin and his team had been tasked by the Center to develop a highly confidential new project commissioned by the U.S. Government. _What was the name? _Funds had initially been appropriated but the project hit a number of impediments that eventually led to the discontinuation of not only the funding but also the project. Mankin was furious. Determined to keep the project alive, he and his associates clandestinely channeled Center funds into a Swiss Bank account then set about advancing the project outside the confines of the Center. When eventually the connivance was discovered, Mankin, Cresswell and Howe had been abruptly dismissed.

Recalling the contents of the newspaper article, something caught in Kate's mind. Besides Mankin, Cresswell and Howe, there had been a fourth man implicated in the fraud—a financial analyst at the Center who had orchestrated the misappropriations. It came to her in a flash. "Briere," Kate muttered the name aloud. "You're Maxwell Briere."

His fleshy features notably lightened at the recognition. "And so I am, Dr. Manning. Very astute of you to remember my name."

"It was difficult," she noted with icy detachment, "you've changed your appearance."

The man ran a hand over his smooth, depilated head. "Yes, certain events necessitated a slight deviation from my previous features." Turning his attention to Nelson, "To answer your question, admiral, yes, I was responsible for the destruction of the _Albemarle_." He accentuated his statement with a wry grin that sent Nelson's blood to boiling.

"You killed, murdered fifteen men including one of the greatest minds in the world!" Nelson seethed, his temper dangerously close to boiling over. "For what purpose?"

Briere momentarily evaded the pointed question. "Dr. Manning, I'm sure you are aware of Dr. Mankin's work at the Center at the time of his departure."

Kate glared, unflinching, "I can't seem to recall."

He found it hard to tell whether she genuinely didn't recall or if it was all an act of defiance. In any event, he smiled in delighted amusement. "Lightning Bolt," he answered succinctly.

Nelson glanced instinctively at Kate then quickly shifted his gaze to Briere. "Lightning Bolt?" he repeated with a dry laugh, his tone and demeanor notably incredulous. The project: a folly, skeptics had called it; a resource with limitless power, supporters had argued. Although cautious, Nelson viewed it as the latter.

Lightning Bolt. The idea wasn't new: broadcast electricity or the ability to send electricity by radio waves. Nikola Tesla first did it in 1899 by transmitting 100 million volts of high-frequency electric power wirelessly over a distance of 26 miles, lighting up 200 light bulbs and running one electric motor. Lightning Bolt was merely an expansion on Tesla's concept. As far as Nelson knew, Lightning Bolt died with its creator on board the _Albemarle_.

"Any hope of resurrecting Lightning Bolt was lost with Mankin aboard the _Albemarle_."

"You are only half right, admiral." Briere glanced at Kate. "Would you like to explain, Dr. Manning?"

Nelson passed a confused look from Briere to Kate.

"I told you, I don't recall."

Briere smiled, nodding slightly as he yielded to her. He had expected her to be somewhat uncooperative but not persistently so. "You see, admiral, when Mankin left the Center, Lightning Bolt was nothing more than notes and diagrams on paper. The project was shelved before it could be advanced beyond the design stage. Before he left, Cresswell was able to switch the blueprints with that of a lesser design. I can only imagine the surprise when some electrical engineer began constructing a common light emitting diode. Perhaps it was you, Dr. Manning?"

Her eyes narrowed with unspoken contempt.

"Perhaps not," he continued. "In any event, Mankin was able to assemble a working prototype aboard the _Albemarle_."

Nelson shook his head. Now everything made even less sense than before. "I don't understand. If Mankin had a working prototype, you could have profited greatly from Lightning Bolt. Why destroy it?"

He let out a deep breath as if it taxed him to explain. "You might say Dr. Mankin and I had a clashing of ideologies."

"That was certainly no reason to destroy the lives of those aboard the _Albemarle_." Nelson found it difficult to keep his voice level as his temper surged.

"I assure you, admiral, Mankin left me no other choice." The reflective grin was immediately replaced by a condescending frown. "I understood the potential power of Lightning Bolt. Mankin, the puritan that he was, couldn't fathom the thought of using something so powerful for such a destructive cause."

"Look, Briere, why don't you dispense with the hedging and just tell us what you want?" It was Kate's question and she was feeling particularly surly.

"I would have thought by now it was painfully obvious: I want Lightning Bolt."

Nelson shook his head, disbelieving the audacity of the request. "You just confirmed that the notes and drawings, the equipment, were lost with the _Albemarle_."

"I did, however," he paused to examine his fingernails, "I believe there exists a second prototype." As he looked up, his eyes fell upon Kate's. If he expected a reaction from her, she did not give him one. Never flinching, her expression remained impassive.

The implication was not lost on Nelson. Sitting forward on the seat, eyes narrowing, "Look Briere, if you think we are going to help you locate this purported second prototype for your own destructive cause, you're sadly mistaken."

"Not 'we', admiral." With an ominous gaze fixed intently on Kate, "She. Dr. Manning is of vital importance to me. Although I would never deny your boundless innovative knowledge of electrical engineering or physics, I believe you would be more of a liability to me than an asset." His voice took on a menacing tone that shrouded his amiable demeanor. "That is not to say you don't have value to me."

With a menacing glare, Nelson pronounced each word carefully, "If you do anything to harm her, Briere, I swear I'll…" In the passenger seat, Kurt turned sharply, his gun steadied at the admiral. Surrendering to the clear persuasion, Nelson begrudgingly settled back in the seat, his right fist still tightly clenched.

Briere held up one hand, motioning Kurt to lower the weapon. "There's that streak of chivalry again, admiral," he admonished. "You really must be careful with that or one day it will truly be the cause of your demise." Folding his hands across his broad lap, Briere continued, "With regard to Dr. Manning, you really have nothing to worry about. As I said, she is vitally important to me and, as a gentleman, I believe it's very unsporting to try the same coercion tactics on a woman that one would use on a fellow like you. I believe that with the right amount of encouragement, Dr. Manning will tell me what I want to know."

"Then you're sadly mistaken," she interjected.

A faint, knowing laugh escaped Briere's tight lips. "We shall see, doctor. We shall see."

They stopped briefly at the immigration office in Tijuana, just across the Mexican border. Nelson held out brief hope that the guards at the border would question the fact that two passengers didn't have tourist cards but the cash that Karl slipped the man seemed to squelch the chances. With a cheery smile, the guard waved the sedan through the gates. Well, Nelson thought, at least now he knew where they were headed.

The drive along the highway briefly paralleled the Pacific Coast, allowing breathtaking views of the rocky coastline below them and the Coronado Islands in the distance. Once past Ensenada, the car turned off Highway 1 and onto a dirt road into the rugged, low hills and valleys. For a while, Nelson was convinced they were heading towards the middle section of the peninsula until he spied the glittering infinite blue of the Pacific Ocean just over Kate's shoulder.

Drawing to an idle as a pair of heavily reinforced gates opened on demand, Briere gazed out the window. "Ladies and gentlemen," he pronounced with undue flair, "we have reached our destination."


	3. Chapter 3

"No, Lee," Angie said over the phone, "he still hasn't come in and he hasn't called. Quite frankly, I'm getting more than a little concerned." It was 10:35 and Angie's voice was laced with anxiety as she spoke into the receiver. "I've postponed the budget review. Lee, you know the admiral. It's not like him to miss a meeting, especially the Quarterly Budget Review. I know he doesn't like it but he wouldn't miss it."

Standing next to Sparks on board _Seaview_, Lee ran a hand through his dark hair. "Did you check with Admiral Hewitt's office?"

"Yes, the admiral's secretary said Admiral Nelson left the office around 6:30 last night. Admiral Hewitt invited him to dinner but he said he already had dinner plans. She asked Admiral Hewitt if he knew with whom the admiral was dining but all Admiral Hewitt knew was that it was a friend."

Lieutenant Commander Chip Morton, standing at Lee's side, listened in with concern. "Something's wrong, Lee."

Lee paused and, cupping his hand over the receiver, spoke to Chip, "I know. I don't like it either." Then, returning to the phone, he said, "Angie, check with the Highway Patrol. See if there were any accidents between here and San Diego that could have delayed his trip." Lee paused. He was quickly running out of avenues.

Sensing Lee's growing exasperation, Chip asked, "What about Edith? Maybe she can at least give us a clue as to whom he might have met."

Lee said to Chip, "good idea," then to Angie, "if you hear anything…"

"I'll call you," she finished.

"Sparks, put a call through to Edith Nelson. I'll take it in my cabin."

After a brief delay, Sparks' voice sounded over the intercom. "Captain, I have Miss Nelson on your private line."

Lee, pacing the floor of his cabin and chewing on his thumbnail, grabbed the phone. "Hello!" he replied anxiously.

"Lee?" Given the tone of his greeting, Edith knew something was the matter. "What's wrong?"

Lee took a deep breath and decided he was overreacting. Trying to inject a little levity, he asked, "I don't suppose you might know the admiral's whereabouts?"

"Don't tell me you've lost Harry," she replied with an incredulous laugh.

"No, nothing like that," he responded lightly, marveling at just how close to the truth her statement was. "He had a meeting in San Diego Monday afternoon and hasn't returned yet. Angie had a message that he was meeting a friend for dinner and decided to stay overnight but he didn't leave a forwarding number." As an afterthought and to avoid causing the admiral's sister undue worry, he added, "I really need to get in touch with him."

"San Diego? He must have at least a dozen old Navy buddies there."

"That's what I'm afraid of. It's going to be like trying to find a needle in a haystack."

Edith thought a moment, "Not really. You say he stayed overnight?"

"Yes."

"I'll bet he's at Kate's."

"Kate?" Lee raised a curious eyebrow. He never recalled the admiral mentioning anyone named Kate.

"Dr. Kathleen Manning. She's a very close friend. They usually have dinner whenever he's in town. I think I have her number somewhere if you can hold on." There was a brief pause and the sound of rustling papers then Edith returned. "Yes, here it is." She relayed the number and, when he pressed, the address. Having picked up on the urgency in his voice, she asked, "Lee, there's something more, isn't there?"

Lee hesitated. He had known Edith Nelson for almost as many years as he had known the admiral. Lee and Edith had dated a few times, though not what either would call seriously, so they did have a degree of familiarity. Despite being related to someone who so obviously wore his emotions on his sleeve, Edith had an uncanny knack for reading Lee's more subtle emotions. He never could fool her. "I don't know. He told Angie he'd be back in time for the budget review this morning but that was at 10:30 and so far there's been no word from him."

"That's not like Harry at all."

"I know. He likes budget reviews about as much as Christ liked sin but he'd never intentionally miss one—not without at least calling." He paused, his mind trying to reclaim something Edith had mentioned that piqued his curiosity. "You say he and this Dr. Manning are close friends?" Lee hated to have to ask the question but his first inclination was that this woman might somehow be implicated.

Edith shook her head, "Lee, I know what you're thinking and it's just not possible. Harry and Kate are, well, let's just say they are very close friends and leave it at that. Besides, she's an expert in physics at…oh, what's that called…that Center? What IS the name? You know, the one near La Jolla."

"Center for Advanced Research?"

"Yes, that's the one. She's got all kinds of security clearances if you want to check her out."

Lee didn't like the feeling that was starting to form in the pit of his stomach. "I'm sure that won't be necessary," he fibbed. Purposefully changing the mood of the conversation, he let out a light laugh, "you know, Edith, I'm sure the admiral just got detained and lost all track of time. I'm sure I'm just overreacting. Thanks for the information. I'll talk to you soon." Lee slowly returned the phone to its cradle, feeling a little crass for the curt goodbye. He would try to remember to apologize later, when he was certain he was worrying for no reason and the admiral was giving him a good ribbing for being a mother hen. But he didn't believe half of what he had just told Edith. The admiral wasn't the kind of man to shirk responsibilities, especially where the _Seaview_ and the Institute were concerned.

Lee knew what he had to do. Picking up the receiver, he quickly dialed Dr. Kate Manning's home number and was immediately greeted by her answering machine. "Damn!" he cursed, slamming down the phone. That feeling in the pit of his stomach was starting to fester. Tapping his fingers against his chin, his thoughts formed quickly. Grabbing up the intercom, he barked, "Chief Sharkey, Seaman Kowalski, report to the control room on the double!" Before leaving his cabin, he made one more call. "Sparks, contact DISCO. Have them run a check on Dr. Kate, er Kathleen, Manning. When you get an answer, pipe it through to the Flying Sub. Also, have a car standing by at the Naval Air Station, San Diego." He grabbed his flight jacket and jogged down the corridor.

~oOo~

The sun was warm and bright, the sky as blue as sapphire when Kate and the admiral emerged from the car into the dry, breezy air. "I hope I can trust the two of you to wait here. Please be aware that Mr. Marco will have his gun trained on the back of the admiral's head at all times. Mr. Marco rarely misses."

Nelson's gaze followed Briere and Karl as they disappeared into a small out-building on the other side of the compound then let his eyes drift towards the ocean. Leaning on the warm metal railing that followed the path leading down to the rocky beach, mesmerized by the mystical colors that danced across the sunlit water, he spoke quietly, "I'm sorry I got you into all this." His feeling of helplessness was exposing the chinks in his imaginary armor.

"Sorry?" Kate leaned on the railing next to him. "Harry, it's not your fault." He was fighting the feeling that he had disappointed her. She couldn't blame him. He had established himself as her protector and as he saw it, he had failed. His head may have suffered but his ego had taken the hardest blow. "You're not omnipotent, you know. Contrary to what you might like to think, there are some things that are beyond your scope. Three against one odds are one of them." Feeling as though she had only succeeded in further denting his ego, she tried to boost it back up. "If Briere wanted me, he would have gotten to me whether you were there or not. I'm only grateful you were there. I don't think I could have held it together otherwise." She flashed her familiar, playful grin. "Besides, I'm counting on you to get us out of this." Although her face would never betray her, she was scared to death. Maybe she was placing an inordinate amount of faith in Harry but she was truly confident he would be able to get them out of this mess. He had to—she had no other hope.

The admiral let out a deep sigh, watching a big gull glide effortlessly over the water. "I just wish I knew how." It was one thing to be responsible for only himself but the burden of Kate's safety weighed heavily. As sexist as it may have sounded, the fact that it was Kate, a woman he _loved_, made it different than if it had been Lee or Chip or a crewman. Kate put her hand in his, feeling relief when he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Absently stroking the smooth skin of her hand, Nelson was deep in contemplation. He knew she was depending on him and he couldn't, he wouldn't, let her down. His mind churned as he tried to think of something but each avenue only brought a dead-end. By now, if he knew his captain, Crane would be leaving no stone unturned trying to find him. Only Crane wouldn't know where to look. Hell, he mused, Lee didn't even know about Kate. He could kick himself for being so careless, for not leaving Kate's number with the Institute's message center. Thinking back, would it have really mattered? It was apparent that Briere had premeditated this little escapade; he doubted the man was the type to leave a palpable trail. There was no mistaking it: he was going to have to conjure up a miracle. It wouldn't be the first time.

"You know," she began, interrupting his thoughts, "when I said I wanted more of you, this is _not_ what I had in mind." Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, revealing a breach in her iron exterior.

The comment and the break in her voice as she said it was not lost on him. Turning deliberately towards her, a skeptical smile playing at his lips, "Somehow, I didn't think so." Embracing her tightly, she seemed to collapse against him.

"I can't do this," she said, an errant tear streaming down her cheek and dampening his shirt. "My God, I'm so damned scared."

"It's okay. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared too. You're going to be fine. Briere needs you too much to hurt you."

"What about you?" She fought back more tears. "You heard what he said. He thinks you're a liability."

He didn't want to say he had the same thought: that Briere's words weighed heavily on his mind as well. He could only imagine what value he had to Briere. As he thought of his own fate, something flashed in his mind: an earlier conversation in the car. "I have a feeling there's much more to all this than you're telling me."

She pulled away slightly and looked deep into his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Briere mentioned a second prototype. He seems to think you have some connection to its whereabouts. Do you?"

Her hesitation was all the answer he needed. "I wanted to tell you in the car but with Briere there, it was impossible."

Nelson surveyed the area. Karl and Briere appeared to be still occupied in the out-building while Marco suspiciously returned the admiral's gaze. He was far enough away to have a clear line of fire should either Kate or the admiral feel foolish enough to try to run yet well out of earshot if they kept their voices low. Satisfied they were alone: "I think you can tell me now."

Kate turned back toward the ocean. Looking out at some distant, imaginary point, she explained, "By now you know that Mankin had the designs to Lightning Bolt. The fake blueprint wasn't discovered for some time. Several months after Mankin left, the Pentagon became very interested in Lightning Bolt. While the General Accounting Office conducted a feasibility study, I examined the blueprints and discovered the ruse. It was an area of some embarrassment for the Center. They had let a terminated employee walk away with blueprints for a highly classified government project. We couldn't afford to lose the contract or to admit such an oversight so I was asked to recreate the design."

"You?" He didn't intend to question her ability—in addition to being a physicist, he knew she was equally capable of designing electrical systems much more complicated than Lightning Bolt. He was merely surprised to know she could possibly be involved with the project.

If she felt affronted, she didn't convey it. Her voice remained calm, extremely controlled, and almost amused. "You forget, Harry, like Tesla, I have a photographic memory. I worked with Mankin when Lightning Bolt was in the developmental stage. I've seen his notes, his drawings, I sat through the meetings, the brainstorming sessions that lasted all night. I knew the design." She noticed the disquieting look cross his face as she continued. "I could recreate Lightning Bolt and Ted Slaughter, Head of Project Development, knew it."

"So you built the second prototype."

"Yes."

"And you know where it is?"

"Yes. The second prototype was nearly ready to enter the testing stage but the Pentagon put us on hold again, this time pending a congressional investigation." A bit begrudgingly, she continued, "In its current capacity, it's not as powerful as Mankin's original design but…"

"It can be easily modified," he finished.

"I'm afraid so."

"Kate, just what is the potential of Lightning Bolt?"

She thought for a moment. "With unlimited power, the use of broadcast electricity would be limitless. It has the potential to be extremely destructive."

"There's no guarantee that Mankin's device ever realized its true potential."

"I'd be very surprised if it didn't."

"Why?"

"Well, the concept is quite simple really. It's just a bastardized version of the Tesla coil." He gave her an inquisitive look that urged her to continue. "Well, the Tesla coil is a special transformer that takes a small amount of power and boosts it rapidly to a great deal of power. The high-frequency output of even a small Tesla coil can light up fluorescent tubes held several feet away without wire connections." She could tell by his disgruntled frown that she was only telling him something about which he was already very familiar.

Ignoring his impatience, she continued, "Guglielmo Marconi experimented with extremely low frequency waves and displayed their exceptional ability to penetrate metallic shielding. These waves could affect electrical devices, overload circuits and cause machines like generators, electric motors and automobiles to stall. Not only did Mankin take Marconi's experiment one step further, he also expounded on Tesla's claim to have invented a death ray. By combining the theories and experiments of Marconi with Tesla's, I believe Mankin would have easily validated Tesla's claim to something comparable to a death ray. If he were to somehow combine the high-frequency output of the Tesla coil with Marconi's use of the low frequency waves, the destructive power would be unyielding."

"And the result would be Lightning Bolt."

"Exactly. Unfortunately, I don't think Mankin realized the true destructive power until it was too late."

"And by that time, he had formed some kind of alliance with Briere."

"Yes. For all his faults, Mankin did have a conscience."

The admiral slowly rubbed his left eyebrow. "Yes, Elliot would have seen the scientific benefits, not the destruction it could cause. If this second prototype can be modified, expounded the way you say, the consequences, in the wrong hands, could be devastating."

"Yes, it could easily be a weapon of mass destruction."

Nelson mulled over her statement, remarking blandly, "I really don't think that's what Tesla had in mind."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a second car. As the sedan stopped some yards across from them, Karl trotted dutifully out of the building and opened the door, stepping aside to permit its occupants to exit. Briere's enthusiastic greeting carried over the warm, dry air.

"Emil Carag." It was Nelson who spoke first. Noticing the look of recognition on Kate's face, he asked, "Do you know him?"

"That little weasel who claims to be an electrical engineer? Yes, unfortunately I know him."

"Not a positive experience, I gather?" he asked, eyebrow cocked and slightly amused.

Her attitude was laced with obvious disdain. "I have an aversion to vermin."

Still watching with some concern as the small, birdlike man vigorously pumped Briere's hand, Nelson spoke with seriousness, "Kate, I want you to promise me something." Carag and Briere slowly strolled out of Nelson's sight, the sound of their voices in light banter still carrying on the breeze.

Taken by the earnestness of his tone, she quickly drew her attention towards him. "All right."

He regarded her warmly, taken by her confident, hastened response. It was as if she trusted him implicitly, knowing he would never ask her to do anything that would harm her. He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. He was about to test her will. "No matter what Briere says, more importantly, no matter what Briere does, do not tell him where the prototype is. The life of one man isn't worth the devastation Lightning Bolt could reap upon the world if a madman gets his hands on it."

Weighing his words carefully, she didn't answer right away. His request carried an ominous foreboding that pained her to think about. Her eyes fixed on his and for a moment, she was about to say it was impossible for her to agree but seeing the expression of intent on his face, she slowly nodded. Leaning against him, her arms encircling him, "Oh, Harry, has it come to this?"

His expression was set in grim determination. "I'm afraid it has."

He let go of her only when he felt the stab of Marco's gun in his side. "Come on you two, get moving."

They were guided down a long walkway of what seemed like a hundred steps that eventually emptied onto the rocky beach. Looming high on the water, creaking and rocking against stressed cleats, sat the _Falconer_, a 190ft. research ship moored to a solid pier.

"That's far enough," Marco said, motioning for them to wait before starting towards the ramp.

Kate and Nelson waited for several long minutes, subtle glances passing rapidly between them before Briere, with Karl and Carag at his side, casually strolled down the hundred steps and joined them on the beach.

"Now is the time to show our cards, as the saying goes. Dr. Manning," Briere began, taking Kate by the elbow and leading her away from the admiral. "I think it's time you and I had a little talk."

~oOo~

"I'm not asking that you tell me; I'm demanding that you tell me." Briere was reaching the limit to his patience yet his voice remained eerily steady. His face displaying the slightest beginnings of his exasperation, he chose his words carefully and spoke them clearly, "You see, Dr. Manning, there is no room for discussion. I know there is a second prototype and I know you know where it is. I'd be very grateful if you'd share that information with me."

Kate glanced quickly at the admiral. Recalling their earlier conversation, her response was immediate, yet calmly forthright, "Go to hell."

Briere locked eyes briefly with Karl.

The sharp, deafening crack made Kate jump.


	4. Chapter 4

"Try it again." Lee Crane ordered, checking his watch as Kowalski rang the doorbell once again. No answer. Lee stepped forward and tested the knob. Locked. The door looked to be solid oak, something he didn't cherish having to break down but he would if he had to. "Chief, check around back. There might be another way inside."

Sharkey nodded and disappeared around the garage while Lee checked the admiral's car once again for any signs of foul play. Nothing. All doors were locked, the engine cold. Everything seemed to be in order—including Dr. Manning. The report from DISCO could as well have been on the First Lady, it was that clean.

Sharkey crept around back, his heart pounding at what he might find. Hearing movement on the veranda, he felt himself tense as he slowly lowered himself to the ground. Peering through tall fountain grass, he was relieved to see a big gray tabby leap onto the chaise and begin its methodical bath. "Ah, geez," he huffed, feeling slightly foolish as he stepped away from his makeshift cover. Bounding up the steps to the veranda, he gave the cat a quick scratch behind the ears as he tried the French doors, surprised to find them unlocked. Cautiously opening the doors, he stepped inside. "Admiral?" he called. "Dr. Manning?" Something brushed against his leg, making his heart skip. Looking down, he found the big tabby. Scooping up the cat, he crept cautiously through the house to the front door.

Kowalski, followed by a scowling Crane, rushed inside. Catching a look from the captain, Sharkey put the cat down and explained the situation, "The doors to the porch were unlocked. I called out but no answer."

Lee systematically checked each room, pausing at the bedroom door. It was the only untidy room in an otherwise immaculate house. With an idea forming in his head, he went to the kitchen, glancing at the two empty glasses on the counter, and opened the door to the garage. His eyebrows knitted as a deep frown formed on his face. He had hoped to find the garage empty. At least it would have given him the optimistic theory that the admiral and Dr. Manning had just gone out for breakfast. But, much to his chagrin, the sight of the pearl Thunderbird instantly dashed that thought.

"Skipper!" Kowalski called from the veranda. "Look here." Kowalski pointed out droplets of dried blood on the wooden floor. "Someone's been hurt."

Crane scanned the area, looking for any signs of a struggle. If there had been one, it was almost impossible to tell.

Sharkey joined the two men. "Sir, I found the admiral's hat, coat and tie in the closet…and this." The chief held up a black handbag.

"What's that, chief?"

Sharkey smiled rather sheepishly, "It's a woman's handbag, sir. Alligator, if I'm not mistaken. I think this almost proves something happened to the admiral and Dr. Manning."

Crane cocked an eyebrow curiously, "What makes you think so?"

Sharkey shifted uncomfortably, "Sir, do you have sisters?"

Crane was really in no mood to hear one of Sharkey's stories. "No, I don't."

"Well, sir, I do. And let me tell you, they never go anywhere without their handbags. I think they carry the secrets to the universe in this little thing."

"What's your point, chief?"

Sharkey sensed the captain's growing impatience and quickly got to the point. "Well, sir, I think that if Dr. Manning and the admiral left here of their own accord, she would have taken it with her."

As outlandish as his theory seemed, right now it was the only thing Crane had to go on. "You might have something, chief."

Sharkey's smile widened. "Thank you, sir."

Crane let out a deep sigh and rubbed his chin. The nagging feeling was beginning to transform itself into a monster headache.

~oOo~

Nelson clutched his left shoulder and fell to the ground with a grunt, his face at once registering surprise and pain, the warmth of his own blood seeping through his fingers and covering his hand. Silently chastising himself for his gross error in judgment, he never expected such a brazen response from Briere.

Absorbing the shock of what had just transpired, Kate lunged towards him only to be held firmly in place by Marco.

"The next shot, Dr. Manning," Briere replied icily, "and fishermen will be picking what's left of the admiral out of the water." He looked at his watch. "You have 15 seconds to make up your mind."

Nelson studied the resigned look in Kate's eyes, the lost expression on her face, and knew she would do as Briere asked. He couldn't blame her really. Had the position been reversed, had he been put in the same predicament, he would have had no qualms complying.

Defiance was no longer an issue to Kate. If Briere wanted the prototype, he could have it. "I'll tell you but I want your word, as a gentleman, that no more harm will come to him."

If Kate was looking for the right button to push, she found it. Briere smiled nobly, adding a slight bow. "You have my word as a gentleman."

"Near the Lower Otay Reservoir. There's a private road off the main highway-you can't miss it. Follow the road approximately 2.5 miles and you'll see what looks like an aircraft hanger. The prototype is there."

"And what's security like?"

She glanced furtively at Nelson, at the pain etched on his face, and felt the need to continue. "There are two or three full time guards at the hangar, another three or four that travel the perimeter."

Briere turned to Karl. "Get on the phone to Bowers. Tell him exactly what the woman said—near the Lower Otay Reservoir, private road off the main highway, aircraft hangar. He'll know what to do." Karl nodded curtly and quickly departed.

Regaining a portion of her bravado, Kate bolted from Marco's grasp and went to Harry, kneeling by his side, wrapping an arm around him for support. They did not speak, choosing instead to exchange glances, hers apologetic, his understanding.

The color had drained from his face and a thin veil of perspiration covered his skin as he remained on the ground, his hand still tightly gripping his left shoulder. Blood saturated his shirt and trickled off his hand, making Kate's stomach lurch at the sight. She never had a particularly strong stomach and had more than once passed out at the sight of a bleeding cut. This time she was determined to maintain her composure.

Briere strolled over, casting a shadow on them. Having attained what he desired, his demeanor was once again accommodating. Speaking as one might expect of a gracious host, "I wonder if you and the admiral wouldn't be more comfortable in your accommodations, Dr. Manning."

Shrugging off assistance, Kate helped Nelson to his feet, allowing him to lean heavily on her while he steadied himself. "Can you make it?"

"Yes." His voice was strained yet adamant. As he took his first step, his head swimming, he wondered if he had spoken too soon.

~oOo~

Lee Crane climbed up the ladder from the FS-1 and into the observation nose where Chip Morton was waiting to greet him. His dark eyes a mirror to his mood, Lee didn't have to say a word.

"Nothing?" Chip asked.

"Nothing but a strong feeling that something's very wrong," Lee answered, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to Sharkey. "It's obvious he was there but his car's still sitting in the drive and Kowalski found traces of blood on the floor."

"You think maybe the admiral and this Dr. Manning might have been kidnapped?"

In an expression of the exasperation he was feeling Lee ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to think, Chip. I've contacted Security but I really don't know what they or anyone else can do at this point." For the first time, Lee noticed the charts on the table. "What time do we sail?"

Pacifying Lee's apparent memory lapse, Chip answered, "0830 hours." The exec knew what was coming next. "You want to delay it?"

Lee was preoccupied, his mind thinking past the mission. "Yes. Contact Professor Byers and tell him we've got a problem here and won't be able to sail until 0830 Thursday."

"He's going to want a reason."

"Tell him…" Lee rubbed the back of his neck, "I don't know. Tell him I've taken a leave of my senses and it'll be that long before they return!"

~oOo~

"I don't suppose you have a cigarette?" Under Marco's watchful eye and with Kate's assistance, Nelson had managed to carry himself rather steadily into what he rightly assumed to be her cabin aboard the _Falconer_.

Kate glared at Marco, daring him to take a step forward, and then closed the door. "I seem to recall you quit smoking a year ago," she replied, scouting around the cabin for something to use as a bandage.

Nelson sunk into a chair, cringing as the movement jarred his arm. "Circumstances deem it necessary that I start again," he replied dryly as he leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

Before she could admit that he had a point, a light knock had her scurrying to the door.

Briere entered the room. "I trust you find your accommodations comfortable, Dr. Manning." Briere regarded the admiral briefly. "I apologize for not having a doctor available, admiral. I suppose I was being optimistic in my hope that Dr. Manning would cooperate without having to resort to violence. I do so abhor guns." Setting a clear plastic bottle, a roll of waterproof adhesive tape, a clean shirt and white towels on the table, "I brought a few things that might be of use to you. If you require anything else…"

"A pack of cigarettes," added Nelson, looking up.

Briere nodded. "I'll see what I can do, admiral. Dr. Manning, I leave you to your task." With a nod the man exited the cabin.

Kate wasted no time. Ripping a pristine white towel into strips, she examined the bottle Briere had left on the table. "Isopropyl alcohol—not much to work with. I think about all I can do is clean it out as best I can and hope we can stave off any infection." Watching him closely as he again rested his head against the back of the chair, "Won't you be more comfortable on the bed?"

"Probably but it'll take too much effort to get myself out of this chair. Besides, I don't want to bleed all over your bed." As he spoke, he realized he was presently bleeding all over the chair.

"That doesn't matter," she answered, running a second towel under the faucet in the small lavatory. "Can you get your shirt off?"

"I think so," he answered, working the buttons with a shaking, bloodstained right hand. The menial effort of unbuttoning a shirt seemed to drain him, his face taking on an unnatural paleness.

"Are you okay?" Noticing his obvious discomfort, she came to his aid, helping him slip the shirt off his injured shoulder.

His face contorting with the pain the action caused, he nodded vaguely, his chest rising laboriously. "Just a little light-headed and tired. I'll be fine."

Examining the dime-sized, penetrating hole in his shoulder for the first time, she cringed at the sight. Tissue, already swollen and bruised, was raw and still oozing blood. She had never seen a bullet wound before and hoped to never see one again. In was infinitely more horrifying than anything TV had ever portrayed. "Well," she observed dryly, "the good news is that Karl appears to be an excellent marksman."

As near as Kate could tell, the bullet hit the fleshy crease just above his armpit and exited just to the side of the scapula. There was bound to be muscle, ligament and tissue damage but thankfully, Karl had missed the bone and, more importantly, the subclavian artery. As gently as possible, she slipped the watch off his left wrist then cleaned away drying blood from his arm and hand. Dousing a cloth strip in alcohol, "This is bound to hurt."

He didn't answer but the set jaw and placid expression told her he was ready. Even if it had hurt, she doubted he would have flinched. She had seen the scars; she knew he had been through it all before. She could only surmise that he had been too conditioned against pain to react openly to it.

He sat still and stoical, letting her do what was necessary without complaint. Only when the neat dressing was applied did he allow himself to relax.

Kate helped him ease into the fresh shirt. He looked so pale and tired. "I really wish you'd let me help you to the bed."

He gave it a moment's thought then acquiesced. He hadn't the heart to mention to her that he seriously doubted Briere would let him stay here but he was so tired, the thought of crashing onto the soft bed seemed infinitely inviting for as long as it might last. Leaning heavily on Kate for support, he extricated himself from the chair and, on legs that felt like limp spaghetti, staggered across the room, falling onto the double bed with an audible grunt.

His head barely touching the pillow, he was already on the edge of sleep. Pulling the blanket up, Kate brushed dampened hair off his forehead letting her hand linger, feeling the heat that accompanied a low-grade fever. Bringing up the chair, she hovered nearby, keeping a watchful almost protective eye on him while trying to repel her own fatigue.

She was scared. She tried not to let it show but now, relaxed and with her shield down, she couldn't fight the innate fear that lurked inside her. She wanted to cry but couldn't; she wanted to scream her way out of the nightmare but wouldn't. Trying to find some kind of respite, her mind drifted to the peaceful serenity of the previous night. _Was this to be their penance?_ As bad as she felt for herself, she felt worse for Harry. He had been the innocent one in all this and yet, he had taken the brunt of the torment. And it was only bound to get worse. She was well aware that Harry had served his purpose to Briere: he had been a pawn to get her to comply and now she was a willing participant. Other than his word as a gentleman, there were no more guarantees that Briere would keep him alive. And somehow, Kate knew it was wise to doubt his word.

A brisk knock at the door startled her from the brief bout of reverie. Casting a glance at the still sleeping admiral, she went to the door, steeling herself for what she knew was the inevitable. And Briere's serpent smile told her the time was now.

~oOo~

Seaman Patterson let out a low whistle. "And there was no sign of him, Ski?" he asked slightly incredulously while checking the gauge on the nearest air tank, finding it satisfactory, tagging it and moving it aside.

Kowalski set the diving suit on the rack and paused to answer, "Well, sorta. We could tell he _was_ there—his car was in the driveway and his hat and coat were hanging in the closet but the place was empty."

"You figure something happened to him?"

Kowalski nodded, "I found some blood on the floor. Skipper called all the hospitals thinking maybe there was an accident of some sort and either the admiral or this Dr. Manning had to go to the hospital but that was a dead-end. I'm telling ya, Pat, something funny's definitely going on."

"Think that's why we've delayed the mission for a day?"

Before Kowalski could answer, Chief Sharkey, eavesdropping on the tail end of the conversation, burst into the middle of the two crewmen. "Don't you two goof-offs have something better to do?"

"Sure, chief," Patterson goaded, "but we're checking this diving equipment like you said."

Kowalski stifled his amusement as Sharkey's eyes narrowed, the remark passing stealthily over his head. "Well, sounds like you're flapping your gums to me."

"Gee, chief," Kowalski chimed in, "we were just talking about the admiral disappearing and all. I don't suppose the skipper's heard anything yet?"

Sharkey's demeanor noticeably softened. For reasons known only to him, the chief was very protective of the admiral. "Nah," he answered grimly, shaking his head. "The skipper's been on the phone all afternoon with security. So far, there's no sign of either him or this Dr. Manning." Sharkey looked at the two men watching him in earnest. "Aw right you two goldbrickers. Get back to work before I put the both of you on report." The chief turned on his heel and headed quickly out of the missile room leaving Kowalski and Patterson alone, each exchanging a disbelieving grin as they continued to check suits and air tanks.

~oOo~

Nelson woke with start. He had been in the midst of an exhaustive dream that ended with a bright flash of light knocking him painfully to the ground. The persistent throb in his left shoulder reminded him that it wasn't completely a dream. Glancing at the vacant chair to his right, he had the disconcerting feeling that Kate was no longer in the cabin. A brief look around the small room told him his feeling was right.

A nagging sense of urgency prompted him into action but the acute pain in his shoulder that ran the length of his arm when he made a sudden move held him in check. He tried to lift the limb, to cradle it more comfortably against his chest, but the movement nearly made him pass out. Biting his lower lip and fighting against the pain, he grabbed on to his belt with his left hand then struggled upright, swinging both feet around and planting them firmly on the floor. Finding his watch on the stand next to the bed, he was surprised to find he had been asleep nearly four hours. Rising off the bed he had to wait several minutes for the nauseating dizziness to pass before taking his first steps toward the door. By the time he tested the handle and found to his surprise that it was unlocked, he felt remarkably steady.

Marco greeted him as soon as he opened the door. Thinking at first that he wouldn't be allowed topside, he was slightly perplexed when the big man motioned for him to pass then followed closely behind. Feeling much weaker than he anticipated, Nelson struggled with the stairs to the Boat Deck, grateful for the support the sturdy railing provided. Stopping at the landing to catch his breath, he was immediately greeted by the very heated strains of Kate Manning's voice.

"I just don't agree," She was saying, "The Wimshurst Generator simply cannot produce enough volts. At least with the Van de Graaf Generator there is potential energy as high as 400,000 volts. To achieve the desired power, the only viable solution is the Van de Graaf."

"But the current prototype was designed with the Wimshurst Generator," Emil Carag argued. "To change now will cause undue delay."

"I'm well aware of the current prototype's design and its limitations—I built the damn thing! The Van de Graaf may cause some delay in its acquisition but the impact to the prototype is non-existent. Both use high-speed non-conductors and brushes to create the static electricity, both provide extremely large currents and both have very low amperage. The prototype will not be affected at all by the change."

Seated under a blue canopy, engrossed in what appeared to be a silent battle of wills with Carag, Kate didn't notice Nelson's presence until Briere intervened, "Admiral Nelson, it's nice to see you are once again ambulatory." Kate quickly turned away from Carag. "It seems Dr. Manning has provided you with excellent medical attention although I must say your color still appears a bit off. I would imagine some time spent in this enjoyable sun will do you a world of good."

As much as Nelson hated to agree with the man, the bright, warm sun with the accompanying light, sea breeze did feel most welcome.

Briere reached into his coat pocket and handed the contents, a pack of Viceroy filters, to the admiral. "I didn't take you for a menthol man. I hope these will suffice."

Accepting the pack with an uneasy nod, Nelson eased himself into an available chair nearest to Kate and fumbled with the wrapper. Kate plucked the cigarettes from his hand, tore open the wrapping and offered one up. He pulled it free with his lips, accepting the lit match, and then settled back in the chair with a long, therapeutic drag.

"You've missed lunch but I did have Daniel save you a cold sandwich."

Nelson took another long draw off the cigarette, smoke wafting through his nostrils as he spoke, "No, I'm fine." Admittedly, he really was quite hungry but stubbornness made him refuse the offer.

"Really, admiral. As I'm sure Dr. Manning will confirm, you must keep up your strength."

"I said I'm fine," he answered emphatically, vaguely aware of the concerned look from Kate.

Briere waved his hand in absent dismissal. "As you wish, admiral. Perhaps you'll find your appetite by dinner. I'm told Daniel is preparing a delightful Chilean Sea Bass."

Nelson set his jaw firmly. He was finding it increasingly difficult to tolerate this man and his annoyingly cavalier attitude.

"Before you arrived, admiral, Dr. Manning was just explaining why it would be beneficial to acquire a Van de Graaf Generator. Dr. Carag believes the Wimshurst Generator would suffice. I'm inclined to agree with Dr. Manning, however, we are under a bit of a time constraint." Turning his attention to Kate, "Dr. Manning, how difficult would it be to modify a Wimshurst Generator in order to achieve a volt capacity equal to or greater than the Van de Graaf?"

"It's a matter of increasing the voltage on a generator that is simply not capable of accepting the higher voltage. I could do it but the generator would burn itself out in a matter of minutes."

Briere looked at Carag for accord. "And do you agree?"

"Yes," he nodded, "what she says is true."

"It would be a simpler task to just create our own Van de Graaf Generator."

"But you would need a list of supplies, no doubt?"

"Well, yes, but they aren't that complicated. Some PVC pipe, fabric and a length of fine wire for the electrostatic generator and a capacitor such as a Leyden Jar."

A sickeningly sweet smile crossed Briere's lips. "And while we work to acquire these items, you and the admiral will have devised a plan of escape. I believe I now understand your motives, Dr. Manning. Let me just say, stalling won't help. We'll proceed using the Wimshurst."

"Can't blame a girl for trying," she answered with a shrug.

"Tell me Briere, just what do you have in mind once Lightning Bolt is complete?" Nelson knew the question was bold but he also knew that Briere wouldn't hesitate to answer it. Experience told him men like Briere always liked to boast.

And Briere didn't disappoint. With a broad sweep of his hand, Briere spoke defiantly. "I shall sell Lightning Bolt for a large sum of money to a small country that wishes to become a significant player in world domination."

"So, you'd sell out your own country for money?"

"I am a profiteer, admiral. I have a scarce commodity and a very interested party. The fact that they are not the country of which I am a citizen is of little concern to me. I've never been one to believe in strong allegiances."

"So it would seem," Nelson muttered. He leaned forward, his elbow resting heavily on the table. "You have no regard for the lives that will be lost when this country unleashes Lightning Bolt?"

"Why should I? I don't know these people. They mean nothing to me. Whether they live or die is of no importance to me."

"You make me sick," Nelson hissed, his voice laced with the contempt his expression conveyed.

Briere leaned forward and for a moment, Kate saw the dark flash in the narrowing eyes. "I make you sick?"

Nelson didn't back away, his unflinching gaze remaining unflappable.

"You're just like Mankin," Briere proclaimed in a raised voice, "passing your sanctimonious convictions on me. Idealistic fools the both of you! You exist for the betterment of society and the world. But I ask you, what has the world given you? It gives you nothing; it merely takes at every juncture. Do you not think that each and every person in the United States would turn away the opportunity to prosper on something like this? A gift horse staring him right in the face and Mankin turned away the opportunity to prosper. The idiot!" Briere was on a tangent now, his voice climbing louder and louder, his face turning a bright shade of red. "He was well aware of Lightning Bolt's potential and still destroyed the machine! He claimed he didn't want it falling into the wrong hands; didn't want it used for subversive purposes. Can you imagine that? He created a machine capable of decimating cities then destroyed the damn thing!"

"You asked what the world has given me," Nelson began, his voice deep and steady. "Unlike you, Briere, I don't ask for society or the world to give me anything. Yet, it has. It has given me more than I could ever dream possible: knowledge, endless opportunities to explore and discover, answers to innumerable questions. For society or the world to give to you, you have to give something back." Nelson leaned back in his chair. "But I wouldn't expect a megalomaniac like you to ever understand."

Darkness clouded Briere's eyes, instantly exposing the evil behind his casual, cavalier façade. Tearing the gun away from Karl's hand, he pointed the weapon at the second button on Nelson's shirt. "You've insulted my character, admiral. I don't appreciate that."

Kate heard herself gasp, her eyes darting between Nelson's defiant expression and Briere's wounded pride. They were playing chicken and neither man was willing to back down. The only trouble was, Nelson was in the position to lose everything.

Reaching out her hand and placing it over Briere's, feeling the cold, clamminess that permeated his skin, "you gave me your word as a gentleman," she reminded him in a forcibly calm voice.

Briere looked away from Nelson to Kate, a loose grin crossing his face. "So I did, my dear. And fortunately, I am a man of my word." He lowered the gun and handed it back to Karl. "You are a very lucky man, admiral. Very lucky indeed. Karl, find some out of the way place down below to keep our friend here. Someplace where he can contemplate his own fate as well as that of the world."

Karl nodded then jerked the admiral up by his injured arm, eliciting an involuntary cry as pain screamed in rebellion to the sudden movement. Grabbing his shoulder, Nelson nodded his compliance, slowly leading the way to the stairs. By the time they reached the passageway leading to the storage locker, Nelson found he barely had the strength to lift his foot over the threshold.

"Come on!" Karl ordered, losing his patience and giving Nelson a hearty push forward. In the darkness of the room, Nelson didn't see the I-beam until he crashed into it. Unforgiving steel making hard contact with his left shoulder sent a consuming jolt of pain through him, stifling any sound that might have escaped as he fell to the floor.

Nudging him repeatedly with the toe of his shoe and satisfied he offered no threat, a wry smile crossed Karl's pale lips as he exited the room, pausing to secure the door before he rejoined the others topside.

Hearing the door close and knowing he was safe, Nelson rolled onto his back, soon feeling the soothing relief of the cold floor through the thin cotton fabric that clung to his dampened skin. The room was dark. So dark he couldn't see his hand in front of his face or the blood that seeped through the makeshift bandage and onto the fresh shirt. His breath coming in short, deep rasps he laid still, waiting, praying the agonizing pain would soon subside.


	5. Chapter 5

Kate was aware Carag was talking to her but didn't hear anything he said. Every sense in her body felt numb, desensitized to everything and everyone that evolved around her. Swallowing hard, she reached for her coffee, sloshing the liquid over the side before she realized her hand was shaking so hard she could barely control the cup. Setting the mug on the table, she became vaguely aware that Carag was staring at her.

"Dr. Manning?"

"Yes," she replied as she slowly regained some sense of feeling. Glancing around, she realized they were alone.

"I was saying that I deem it an honor to work with you."

Staring at the slight man blandly, she cocked a questioning eyebrow.

"I've admired your work for years. The achievements you made on Project 90 were incredible. When Briere mentioned that I'd have the opportunity to assist you, well, I naturally jumped at the chance."

Smiling almost pleasantly as she responded, "I find you completely and utterly contemptible. Always have." She pushed away her chair and strolled across the deck, the wind blowing strands of dark hair into her face.

~oOo~

It was well after dark when the ship to shore line buzzed loudly.

"Mr. Briere, a call is coming through for you," the young crewman yelled down from the bridge.

Briere rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Unless I am mistaken, this is the call we have been waiting for."

Rattling up the stairs that led to the bridge then edging his way along the narrow passageway to the radio room, he put the phone to his ear and listened with excited interest then returned the receiver to the crewman.

"Success!" he shouted, mobilizing his large frame down the stairs. Regarding Kate and Carag, his eyes alight, "Lightning Bolt will be here in a matter of hours. I suggest you retire now. Morning will come quickly and we have much to do in very little time."

~oOo~

Lying on his back on the hard deck, Nelson found sleep very elusive. It wasn't that he wasn't tired—he could have slept for days had he been in his bunk aboard _Seaview_. His shoulder had settled into a dull ache and he just couldn't seem to get comfortable. Giving up the fight, he forced himself to sit up, leaning his back against what he could only assume to be the bulkhead and cringing as the movement caused a stab of pain through his shoulder and arm. The brackish, stale air coupled with the damp, iron fetidness of seawater and rusted metals took him back years to his childhood, conjuring up unpleasant memories long since forgotten. Staring into the inky black of the storeroom, he remembered why he disliked darkness.

He was a boy, 7 or 8 years old, when he had climbed into the storm drain on a dare. The thought of descending into the dank, dark chamber below scared the life out of him but with the bigger, older boys egging him on, he couldn't turn away. He was a slight boy, short for his age and extremely shy. Making friends was not an easy task for young master Nelson and being the new boy in the neighborhood automatically made him a target for the older boys. He wanted so much to be accepted by the other boys; he simply couldn't let them think he was a coward. So, he had taken a deep breath and ventured down the ladder, into the stale, rat-infested stench below. Midway down, he looked up; saw their faces staring back at him, laughing at him, taunting him, as they slowly lowered the cover back into place. He clung to the rung, knuckles white from tension. From unseen corridors, whispering voices called his name, beckoning him like a siren to a forgotten sailor; icy fingers snaked out of the water below, snatching his ankles and trying to pull him down. It had all been his imagination, he knew later, feeding from the cold terror that engulfed him. Fear overpowered him, clawed at his insides until he could stand it no longer and he had raced to the top rung, yelling and screaming and pleading to be let out, banging on the sealed cover until his fists were bloody. And finally, the cover had moved. A large, powerful hand, his father's hand, had reached down and pulled him out. Walking home, sobbing uncontrollably, the other boys watched, laughing at him, taunting him.

Harry Nelson no longer feared the dark; he conquered that anxiety many years ago. Still, he hated the unpleasant memories and uncertainty it aroused: memories of unspeakable horrors that sought refuge in darkness. Horrors that inflicted their wrath and pain on him more times than he cared to recall. Horrors the frightened 8 year-old boy could only imagine but the seasoned grown man knew were all too real. An involuntary shudder coursed through him as he recalled some of the more terrifying creatures of the dark he had encountered—many only a small child with a vivid imagination could have visualized; some with the more familiar face of man. Pushing away the memories, returning them to the crevices from which they escaped, he forced himself to think of the present: of Briere, of Kate, of Lee Crane and Chip Morton and _Seaview_.

Nelson had no idea what time it was but an educated guess put it at roughly two or three o'clock in the morning. In a matter of hours _Seaview_ would be making preparations to get underway and Kate would begin work on Lightning Bolt. He ran his hand through his hair and for once wished he hadn't been so impulsive in chastising Briere. Although he had no doubt that Kate was more than capable of taking care of herself, he couldn't help but worry about her.

With a deep sigh, he rested his head against the firm metal and closed his eyes, eventually drifting into a light sleep, only to be jerked awake by the ship's abrupt lurch. A low, steady hum and slight vibration against the bulkhead told him they were getting underway.

~oOo~

As Kate Manning lay across the bed, tired but restless and unable to sleep, she too felt the sudden motion. Staring at the yellowed, water-stained ceiling, she wrestled with the heavy sense of conscience, guilt and worry that had plagued her since earlier that afternoon. Was it right to cooperate with Briere? If it kept Harry alive, she was willing to do anything. And anything was what she would have to do. Briere held her trump card and had already proven he wasn't afraid to use it. Her thoughts drifted to Harry and once again the pang of guilt and worry stabbed at her unmercifully.

Grabbing the pillow that hours ago Nelson had rested upon and drawing it close to her, she could still discern the faint smell of him. God, how she wanted…_needed_…to have him here with her, not in an intimate way but in a comforting, sheltering way. She longed to feel his arms wrapped around her, protecting her, to hear him whisper in that velvet voice how they would be all right. Switching off the bedside lamp and lying in the darkness, the dulcet tones of an old Ella Fitzgerald song ran through her mind:

_Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb_

_There's a somebody I'm longing to see_

_I hope that he turns out to be someone to watch over me._

"Oh, how I need someone to watch over me," she repeated aloud with a remorseful sigh, turning over and burying her face in the pillow. Her shoulders convulsing with the sobs, she cried and cried until she could cry no more, until she realized how selfish she felt. Harry couldn't help her. He couldn't be her shepherd and she couldn't expect him to be. It was up to her to be strong and resourceful. She had cried her self-pity out and now she was ready to do whatever was needed to get them home. Filled with a sense of determination and rising courage, she lay awake a while longer until finally drifting into a shallow, dreamless sleep.

~oOo~

In his cabin aboard _Seaview_, Lee Crane was having an equally restless night. There was so much he wanted to do and so little he could do. He despised feeling helpless but more than anything he despised not knowing. He could almost accept that the admiral might be dead. How many times in the past did he resign himself to that fate only to find him very much alive? The admiral did have a knack for getting himself into and out of trouble.

Still, he had so many questions. If the admiral and Dr. Manning had been kidnapped, why hadn't anyone contacted the Institute? Why hadn't he heard anything from the police? He would have thought they could have turned up a fingerprint, a clue…something. In the last few hours he had tried to think of every madman, every diabolical mastermind they had ever encountered who might have had a grudge against the admiral. But that was an impossible task—there were just so many. And was he being close-minded to think this only concerned the admiral? What if this abduction had nothing to do with him? This Dr. Manning seemed to hold a prominent position at the Center and her list of clearances and credentials certainly was impressive. Maybe these people were after her and the admiral just happened to be in the wrong place. Why hadn't he thought of that aspect before? He had naturally assumed the admiral was the target. Perhaps Dr. Manning was the intended target. He made a mental note to discuss this aspect with that detective from the Santa Barbara Police Department.

In addition to the admiral's disappearance, the stress of the pending mission weighed heavily on his sense of duty. On one hand, he knew _Seaview_ had to sail. Professor Byers and the men at the Cetacean Lab were critically dependent on the supplies _Seaview_ would bring. He couldn't very well leave the scientists stranded. But on the other hand, he felt his place was here at the Institute ready to mobilize in the event of news—news that might not come. It wasn't rational to think he could affect events if he stayed at the Institute and besides, the waiting would drive him crazy. But the admiral was his friend and somehow, to sail with _Seaview_ made him feel as if he were abandoning his friend. No, he rationalized, his best course of action _was_ to sail with _Seaview_. It would be a fairly routine trip but eventful enough to keep him occupied. And besides, if word did come, the Flying Sub could have him back in Santa Barbara in a matter of hours. His mind partially placated, he tried to concentrate on sleep.

~oOo~

Maxwell Briere stood just inside the wheelhouse as the sun poked its first rays above the distant horizon. "It's going to be a fine day," he announced cheerfully. When he was a boy, he loved to sit on the stone fence overlooking the sea while his mother played Delius' _Florida Suite_, in particular, _By the River_. As he placidly stared across the endless water, he felt a sudden yearning to be back with his mother, listening to the soothing sound of the wonderful music.

"Yes, sir," agreed his captain, a tall serious man whose alliance with Briere stretched as far as he was willing to pay.

"How long do you estimate our journey will take?"

"By my calculations, sir, 11 days—barring inclement weather."

"We'll be avoiding the shipping lanes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you Captain." Briere exited the wheelhouse for the warmth of the new sun. Placing the straw Panama hat firmly on his shiny pink head, he took his place aft. Always watch the sun rise and set his mother had told him. He had always tried to do what mother said.

~oOo~

The wake-up call came at 0530, much too early for Kate Manning. Staggering into the small shower inside the cramped lavatory, she emerged twenty minutes later with a few less cobwebs and a strong desire for hot coffee. Brushing aside a wave of guilt that had plagued her since the night before, she quickly dressed and headed topside where Briere and Carag were already enjoying a hearty breakfast under the warm, summer sun.

"Dr. Manning!" Briere poured a measure of coffee into her cup. "How refreshed you look this fine morning. I trust you slept well?"

Kate accepted the cup, trying not to look as desperate for the liquid as she felt. "Under the circumstances, as well as expected."

Briere's features softened as he read the unspoken statement in her words. "Please trust that the admiral spent a perfectly undisturbed night as well. Granted, his conditions were less pleasant than yours but you must agree he brought it on himself. I'm a most forgiving man but I will not have open hostility directed at me. Until he apologizes for the assault, he can stay down there."

Kate stared incredulously at the man, unable to fathom what she was hearing. The man, this veritable megalomaniac, had the audacity to say he felt assaulted! Kate bit back her temper and nodded perfunctorily. Harry would never apologize.

"We have a busy day today, my friends. I suggest we finish our delicious breakfast and get started. I've prepared a schedule and the first milestone is a mere twelve hours from now. I realize it is aggressive but each day wasted represents forfeited profit."

Kate barely had time to finish her coffee before she and Carag accompanied an anxious Briere forward. Mounted on a heavy platform was the perpetrator of Kate's plight: what had been termed by her predecessor as Lightning Bolt. She regarded the medley of components with great despise. It had been a pinnacle achievement to recreate such a complex device on shear powers of recollection but now she hated herself for it and the feeling of accomplishment it had brought her. Had she more courage and an utter disregard for her own life and, more importantly, Harry's, she would have struck down the object right then and there. But, thankfully, more courage and utter disregard eluded her. She had a strong feeling that Harry's future hung precariously on her actions and any misstep on her behalf would easily result in his demise. With a deep sigh, she strolled closer to Carag, just catching the end of Briere's tedious explanation of the broad array of instruments, tools and equipment at their disposal.

"You find something not to your liking?" Briere asked, noticing the look of undisguised contempt etched on Kate's face.

Unaware her emotions were so apparent she was taken aback, "I was just thinking of the best way to boost power to the amplifier."

"Good. For a moment I thought your enthusiasm might be waning."

_Enthusiasm_, she thought? Her enthusiasm had waned about twenty-four hours ago. "No," she only partially lied, "I'm very anxious to get this over with and to return to some semblance of my life."

"That's the spirit!" Briere cried with a pump of his fist.

~oOo~

"Morning, Chip." It was a weary Lee Crane that greeted the exec.

"Good morning, Lee," Chip said, glancing up from the plot table and seeing the dark circles under the Skipper's eyes. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," Lee answered, sarcasm seeping into his voice. He ran his hand through his hair. "If it's any consolation, I probably feel as bad as I look."

"The admiral's disappearance is getting to you, huh?"

Lee let out a deep sigh. "Yeah, I guess it is." He caught the quizzical look on his exec's face and continued. "I don't know Chip. I thought I knew the admiral better than, well, better than anyone else. And I never knew about this Dr. Manning. He never, ever mentioned her."

"Would you have expected him to? Lee, we both know the admiral's a very private man. I would think he has a few secrets that he keeps from even you."

Lee let out a long, ponderous sigh, "You're probably right."

"Go easy on yourself. You can't be responsible for every thing that happens to the man. He's a big boy and contrary to what we might think, he's probably more capable of taking care of himself than either you or me."

Again, Lee found reason in what his exec said. "I know, I know. I just feel like there's more we could be doing."

"Like what? You've got the Institute Security and the Santa Barbara Police Department alerted. Apart from calling in the FBI, there's not much more we can do unless some firm evidence shows itself. For all we know, the admiral and Ms. Manning got spontaneous and decided to run off to Vegas to get married."

Lee gaped incredulously at his exec then laughed openly at the thought of the admiral running off to Vegas. He knew what Chip was trying to do and was grateful for his efforts. "Do you really think the admiral is capable of that kind of spontaneity?" he asked with a relaxed smile.

"I don't know, sometimes he's full of surprises."

Lee cast his mind back over the years, to some of the wilder stunts the admiral had pulled that had astounded Lee and the crew of the _Seaview_. "Maybe you're right," he replied, scratching his chin and realizing he could have done a better job shaving. "Even so, you and I both know he would never go off on a whim and shirk his responsibilities to _Seaview_ and the Institute."

The exec nodded, a raised eyebrow emphasizing that he conceded the Skipper's point. If anything, the admiral was almost obsessive about his responsibilities. Studying the amused expression still adhering to Crane's dark features, Chip felt now was as good a time as any to broach the subject. "Lee, I hate to mention this but it's 0630. I've already fielded half a dozen calls from Professor Byers." Chip cringed at the memory of his last conversation with the professor. The man was easily on the other side of seventy but could still use words that made even the stoic Chip Morton blush.

"I know," he answered, his look of resignation making a rapid return.

~oOo~

Hearing the bolt on the door disengage, Nelson looked up to see Marco wave him out. "Come on. Mr. Briere says you get a trip upstairs."

Nelson struggled to his feet then led the way through the narrow passageway and up the metal stairs, blinking hard as his eyes adjusted to the unaccustomed bright sunlight that trickled in from the Main Deck one flight up.

Marco motioned him towards the crew's lavatory. Positioning himself outside the door, he let the admiral pass. "You've got fifteen minutes."

Disappearing into the lavatory, Nelson shut the door. The space was small, confined, and had a faint odor of warm seawater, mildew and other unpleasant smells that generally accompanied a men's lavatory. At this point, he wasn't particular. Completing his first urgent business he wandered over to the wash basin, letting the water run until it was lukewarm then pulling up the stopper and letting the water run until the sink was halfway full.

Glancing into the mirror, he noticed the dark crimson patch that stained the light cotton shirt. Thinking back to the previous night, he guessed that he had probably reopened the wound when he ran into the I-beam. He gave a moment's thought to cleaning and rebandaging the wound then decided it would take much more effort than he was willing to expend. Noting his appearance, he let out a disbelieving laugh at the sight that greeted him. Dried blood, a painful reminder of yesterday morning's ordeal, was still encrusted in his disheveled hair and a heavy layer of stubble covered his chin and jaw. Predominantly white stubble he noted, much to his chagrin.

Splashing the tepid water on his face and washing away the last remnants of blood, he casually glanced at the faucet, a thought occurring to him. Quickly, he opened the cabinet below, examining the connections that ran from the sink to the drainpipe. Bending to his knees and realizing too late that he should avoid sudden motion like that, he tested the pivot rod that connected to the clevis that in turn controlled the stopper. The bolt from the pivot rod to the clevis would be impossible to free by hand but all he really needed to do was free the pivot rod. Gingerly guarding his shoulder, he leaned into the cabinet and attempted to break the clevis. The metal was thin, pliable, bending easily between his fingers. If he broke it, he doubted any of the crew would know the difference but they might notice the leak that would ensue once the pivot rod was missing. Thinking through his options, he remembered a simple trick he learned long ago.

An impatient knock on the door brought him abruptly to his feet, bumping his head against the cabinet in the process and cursing under his breath. He hadn't quite worked it free but was confident it would give after one more attempt. If Briere was that concerned with his well-being, he might just get another chance later in the day. Before opening the door to Marco, he quickly took a handful of water and deposited it under the pipes so that it formed a small puddle. He took another handful and splashed it liberally on the pipes so that there was a noticeable drip.

"Time's up," Marco called, rattling the door handle.

Feeling his confidence returning, Nelson quietly closed the cabinet then opened the door. "Sorry," he apologized rather sheepishly as Marco surveyed the lavatory for anything out of the ordinary. "By the way, there's a leak under the sink."

Marco opened the cabinet, saw the water and grunted. Then, satisfied everything was in order but still giving the admiral a suspicious glare, Marco nudged him forward. "Back the way you came."

Nelson allowed himself a slight grin. He had a plan, albeit dangerous and rather tenuous, but a plan nonetheless.


	6. Chapter 6

"Lee?" Chip Morton sidled up next to the captain. It was already ten minutes past their planned sail time of 0830.

Crane knew the question even before the exec asked. And he didn't have an answer he liked.

Lee was in a dilemma. Do they sail or do they continue to wait for news that might never come? _Seaview_ was expected to rendezvous with the Undersea Lab at 1730 hours and it was an appointment they could ill afford to miss. In order to make the rendezvous _Seaview_ had to sail now. He slammed his hand against the plot table with more ardor than intended. Aware that he had mustered the attention of the entire control room, he shifted uncomfortably. "Chip, get us underway," he commanded in a low, almost exasperated voice

"Aye, aye, sir." Chip Morton sounded the klaxon sending the warning of an impending dive throughout the boat. As a security measure, the small port that housed the _Seaview_'s loading dock was designed so that the submarine could not merely pick up and sail out into the open waters. The maneuver was a tricky one for any first time navigator but for the seasoned first officer, it was a cakewalk. Chip Morton had taken the _Seaview_ down to a depth of 90 feet and skimmed the ocean bottom so many times he could do it with his eyes closed. "Clear the deck and prepare to dive." Chip waited with the intercom in his hand until at last all crewmen were safely aboard. "Dive, dive," he said quickly, "Give us a full drop on the plane, take us down to 90 feet and maintain trim. Open the gates."

"90 feet, sir. Gates are open."

"Give me one degree on the starboard keel and hold her steady."

"One degree on the starboard keel. We're at 90 feet and holding steady." Chip waited for the next command.

"Let's proceed," Crane ordered. "All ahead slow."

"All ahead slow." They passed through the gates and headed out to the open waters of the Pacific Ocean.

"Chip, set a course for the Cetacean Undersea Lab."

~oOo~

Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, Kate stretched her back and checked her watch, surprised to find it was almost noon.

She had just completed the calibration of the instrumentation and was preparing to start the tedious task of disassembling the amplifier in order to boost the main coil. It was currently emitting sounds at 23 decibels but to get to the specs Briere demanded, the output would have to be much higher. Pausing to look over the project she had to smile.

To the uninitiated, Lightning Bolt looked like nothing more than three black metal boxes connected by a few lines of non insulated copper wire to a satellite dish mounted on a platform. With the odd circular wheel of the Wimshurst Generator attached to the second black box, the entire contraption resembled something a child might have assembled in a corner of their bedroom as part of an imaginary science fiction game.

She had to admit her own degree of astonishment some years ago when she first flipped the switch, heard the low hum and witnessed the bright, jagged flash discharge from the satellite to the immense box fan on the other side of the lab, immediately circulating its huge blades. With a soft laugh, she recalled the wide-eyed amazement of her assistant as he slowly reached down to pick up the disconnected power cord.

"You find something amusing, Dr. Manning?" It was Briere's voice that caused her to turn.

"I was just thinking how bizarre this whole contraption looks."

Briere raised an eyebrow as if in unspoken agreement. "Under a humble guise lies the fiercest enemy." He tucked his hands behind his back and continued his stroll along the deck.

As she watched him continue his idle pace and with his cryptic words fresh on her mind, she registered with sudden clarity her present purpose: to increase the ability to power an object until the system is overloaded and the object destructs. In its present capacity, Lightning Bolt could do no more than simply burn out a light bulb or a small engine. But on a grander scale, the scale Briere wanted to obtain, the only objects safe from Lightning Bolt's destructive power would be diesel powered. It would most definitely be the fiercest enemy.

On his next trip to the head later that afternoon, Nelson was amused to see the rusty coffee can positioned under the pipe inside the cabinet. With a little more effort than expected, he tugged and pulled until, with a resounding clang, the rod came free. For a moment he froze, wondering if the racket would bring Marco through the door and knowing he couldn't get to his feet in time to look innocent. When not even a knock sounded, he let out the breath he had been holding and tucked the rod away in his sock and shoe. In one final action, he ran water through the sink, grinning somewhat smugly as the sound of dripping water reverberated inside the coffee can.

~oOo~

It was nearly 6pm when Kate signaled to an anxious Briere. "It's not quite up to full power yet but it should be ready for the first test."

"Wonderful, Dr. Manning! Tell me, do you think it capable of destroying a target say, 2,000 yards away?"

"I'm reasonably sure, yes."

"Outstanding. If you'll excuse me for a moment." Briere disappeared into the wheelhouse conferring briefly with the captain before returning. "In precisely six minutes we will be in position, Dr. Manning."

"You'll have to give me the distance and directions so I can program them into Lightning Bolt."

"Must it be exact?"

"No, the arc will affect anything within a 300 yard radius, like a giant umbrella. In order to remain unaffected by the umbrella effect, we would need to maintain a safe distance of at least 750 yards."

Karl, appearing at Briere's side, handed him a piece of paper. "Thank you." Turning his attention to Kate: "Anchored approximately 2,000 yards off the starboard bow is an abandoned boat. Situated on that boat is an electronic beacon. Besides letting us know it's still out there, it will serve as your target." Pulling a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket, he read aloud the coordinates from the paper. "Whenever you are ready, Dr. Manning." Briere bowed slightly then took his leave, strolling up the stairs to the flying bridge directly above the wheelhouse. Using long-range binoculars mounted on a tripod, he was allowed an infinite view of the ocean.

Kate flipped a switch, immediately filling the air with a low, vibrating hum.

"Is that normal?" Carag asked tentatively, eyes darting nervously from one end of the machine to the other.

"Yes. It takes a few minutes to build energy. The hum will become increasingly louder. I don't like that vibration though. Some is to be expected but not much more than this." She watched as the needle inched higher and higher, each notch representing the increasing power.

Sitting with his back against the bulkhead in the dark storage locker, Nelson felt the hairs on his neck stand up as the vibration increased. He knew immediately the reason for the sudden increase in static electricity: Lightning Bolt was being put through its first test. Simply as a precaution, he moved away from the bulkhead and the I-beam.

Briere watched as the fulgurous arc engulfed the little boat in a bright white light until the craft could tolerate no more, finally splintering into a thousand pieces. "Success!" he yelled with uncontrolled elation.

Seeing an inordinate amount of black smoke off in the distance, Kate called up to Briere, "what happened?"

"Lightning Bolt didn't just impair the beacon, my dear. It obliterated the entire boat."

That accounted for the excessive vibration, she thought.

"You have by far exceeded my expectations," Briere pronounced as he slowly descended the stairs. "And to reward you for amply meeting my first milestone, I will allow you to spend an hour with the admiral this evening."

It was the first genuine smile Kate had displayed in his presence since their voyage began. "Thank you."

~oOo~

Marco held the door open, allowing Nelson to pass. "Mr. Briere says you have one hour."

Kate watched him enter keeping her distance until he was safely inside and Marco had closed the door. Once the door clicked, she rushed forward.

Nelson wanted to hold her close; to squeeze her tightly and never let her go, but he just couldn't bring his left arm up. Kate sensed his discomfort and compensated, engulfing him as tightly as she dared.

They stood quietly together, each absorbing the comforting feel of the other, for what seemed like an eternity until at last she whispered in an emotional voice, "How are you?"

"All things considered, I'd rather be in Philadelphia," he replied, recalling W.C. Fields' proposed epitaph. "How about you?"

"I don't know. I think I'm existing on pure adrenaline. The first test was a success."

"I suspected as much. That seems to account for this little tryst."

She pulled away remaining at arm's length for a several minutes as if performing a personal evaluation of his condition before leaning forward for a welcoming kiss. There was no passion or desire in the action just a great sense of relief and a need for reassurance. "You look terrible," she said at last.

"Thank you for that compliment, ma'am," he replied with a cocked eyebrow and a sardonic grin.

"Come on," she said, leading him to the bed and urging him to sit while handing him a sandwich neatly wrapped in wax paper. "I want you to eat this and while you're doing that, I need to change that bandage." Before he could protest, she disappeared into the lavatory, returning moments later with fresh towels and the alcohol.

Quickly devouring the sandwich, he nodded toward the bottle, "I'd prefer the internal to the external," he commented with a mouthful. Unfastening the buttons and extracting the cigarette pack from the shirt's pocket, he gingerly removed the shirt and tossed it aside.

Kate handed him a cigarette and held out the match as he leaned forward. "Sorry, this stateroom appears to be lacking a bar."

Taking a long drag and inhaling the smoke, "I'd like a word with the captain. What kind of cruise is this?"

Her soft laugh was quickly quelled. "Good Lord, Harry," she said, removing the makeshift bandage to expose a mottled bruise near the wound that wasn't apparent before. "What happened?"

Momentarily taking the cigarette from his lips, he strained to see. "I ran into an I-beam - a steel beam that runs vertically."

She eyed him skeptically as she applied the alcohol.

"Honest," he answered, taking another long pull on the cigarette to counteract the sting. "It's dark in the storage locker. Karl felt the need to give me a little encouraging shove. The beam broke my fall."

"It looks like it very nearly broke your shoulder."

"Well, if it's any consolation, it hurt like hell." He took one last puff then snuffed out the cigarette.

Kate applied a fresh dressing and helped him into his shirt, fastening all but one button midway down the placket. "Here, slip your hand in here. It'll immobilize your arm. And don't give me that look."

"Kate," he began in a low voice, "I think I might have come up with something." Glancing furtively around the room and motioning for her to sit beside him, it occurred to him that Briere or his men could easily be listening in. Lifting his pant leg, he showed her the pivot rod that protruded from his shoe.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"It's a metal rod from the sink. I worked it loose this morning but ran out of time. During this afternoon's visit, I was able to free it."

"How can that help?" She had a hard time understanding how a six-inch piece of molded metal could help them escape.

"If I can overpower Marco, I can get his gun."

She looked at him as if she had been struck. "For heaven's sake, Harry, you can't even lift your arm. How do you think you can overpower Marco? He'll kill you." She wiped away an errant tear, aware that his unyielding gaze was fixed on her. She hadn't meant to cry but she was having a terrible time choking it back.

"Kate," he began, trying to keep the rise out of his voice, "I'm not going to sit back and let Briere carry out his plan." He absently pounded his fist against his thigh. "Do you realize the implications of something like Lightning Bolt in the wrong hands? If the range and power are unlimited, they will have the potential to destroy cars, aircraft…entire cities."

Kate jumped to her feet, pacing back and forth in front of him. "Don't you think I'm well aware of that? Don't you think I know the ramifications of what I'm doing? It makes me sick, Harry. Sick to think I'm giving some small foreign government the power to randomly destroy parts of the United States or what's worse, some hapless country ripe for the taking. But what can I do? He'll kill you if I don't help him. And I will not, cannot, be responsible for your death." She turned away, not wanting him to see the tears that filled her eyes. "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you."

Nelson stared at her dumbly, unable to react. He had been so wrapped up in his own plans and ideas he had simply dismissed the effect this was having on her. Hadn't given it a second thought actually. He just assumed she would react the same way he would have—destroy the enemy without thought for personal safety. But Kate wasn't a crewman who would blindly follow the admiral's orders at whatever the cost to personal safety. He should have known. Slowly getting to his feet, he reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder and letting her turn into him, her face burying into his shoulder. Gently rubbing her back, he searched for the right words. "I have a bad habit of getting a little wrapped up in things. I tend to get tunnel vision. I'm sorry, Kate. I...I didn't think."

"It's okay," she reassured him, using the back of her hand to dry her eyes. "I know we need to do something."

Still, he wasn't a defeatist by any means. "Is there anything you can do to Lightning Bolt?"

"Do you mean sabotage?" Pulling away from his grasp, she shook her head. "I've got Briere and Carag constantly looking over my shoulder and Carag knows just enough to make him dangerous. I'm afraid any attempt I make would not go unnoticed."

This time it was his turn to pace the room. Shoving his right hand into his pocket, he aired his thoughts in a low, steady voice. "If there was just some way to slide or remove that bolt on the storage locker door. It's not watertight—I can see a trickle of light coming through where the bolt latches and I doubt Briere has anyone posted at the door on a regular basis. If I could get free, I think I could move about undetected and dispose of the others." He could tell immediately she wasn't any keener on this plan than she was on the previous one. He knew he was grasping at straws and both plans were tenuous at best but without Kate's willingness to undermine Lightning Bolt, he was out of ideas. With himself as leverage against Kate, Briere couldn't have been dealt a better hand if he cheated.

"I suppose you might stand a better chance with the element of surprise in your favor."

Her response took him by surprise. "Yes," he nodded. "I would only have to get the jump on either Marco or Karl. One strategic blow with the pivot rod is all I need."

"There are several sets of tools and instruments lying around. Maybe there's something I can find that wouldn't be easily missed."

"If Briere follows the same routine tomorrow, I'll be allowed a morning and afternoon visit to the crew's lavatory amidships on the Lower Deck."

"I pass by there in the morning on my way topside."

"Do you usually have an escort?"

"Yes, but I'm sure I can think of some reason to have to stop." She batted an eyelash.

"Good girl."

"Under the sink?"

"It might be too obvious." He thought for a moment, trying to visualize the small lavatory in his mind. He only came up empty. But wait. "If you could use some of that tape, you could secure it to the underside of the sink…if it's not too big."

A hard knock startled both of them. "Admiral, you've got 5 minutes." It was Karl's indiscernible accent on the other side of the door. "Start saying your good-byes."

"Well," she began, drawing a deep breath, "wish me luck."

"You know I certainly do that." His hand slipped easily around her waist. "Kate, be careful. I don't want you taking any unnecessary risks." He had to admit after her chastising, he was feeling more than a twinge of guilt now. "If you don't think you can do it, don't."

"I've got the easy part," she said standing close to him. "You have to make it all work." They stood together in one final embrace, Kate pressing forward for one more kiss before regretfully letting him go as he edged toward the door. "Take care of yourself, Harry."

He gave what amounted to an inaudible grunt before disappearing into the passageway, Karl trailing behind.

~oOo~

Friday morning began roughly the same way as the previous morning for Kate Manning. Anxious to accomplish her mission, she quickly consumed coffee and toast then claimed much to Briere's delight that she really wanted to get started.

She had moved along anxiously all morning, praying that her nervousness would go unnoticed by either Briere or Carag. Several times she had lingered near the long tray that housed a plethora of instruments and tools, most of which she never knew existed. The entire array made Kate think that Briere had hit a going out of business sale at the local hardware store. He certainly had seen to it that when it came to Lightning Bolt, she wanted for nothing.

Wandering around the accoutrements on the premise of searching for a pair of crimpers, Kate spied two items that just might benefit Harry. The first was something akin to a dental probe. It was long and flat with a strong hook on one end. The second was a pair of Dumont tweezers that bore no resemblance to conventional tweezers. With its wafer thin, extremely durable appearance and highly magnetized structure, Kate reckoned the piece might work nicely on the steel bolt. Coupled with the length of wire in her pocket, she was certain Harry could find some way to make use of the tools. Aware that Carag was hovering nearby, Kate quickly picked up the crimpers she came for, noting the position of the identified tools, and started back to work.

Deeply involved in wiring switches, Kate lost all track of time. The smell of grilled fish wafting up from the galley reminded her that it must be nearly eleven. Anticipating her window of opportunity, she declined the offer to join Briere and Carag for lunch, almost regretting the decision when she realized she really was quite hungry.

Lunch and the banter they exchanged kept Briere and Carag nicely occupied under the blue canopy aft however Kate still had Karl and Marco to worry about. Seeing Karl disappear into the wheelhouse, Kate let out a sigh of relief. Only Marco remained and somehow he didn't concern her as much as Karl did.

Motioning the tall burly man over, Kate quickly formulated a plan. "I need your help on something."

"Mr. Briere wouldn't approve," he hedged.

"I'd ask Carag to do it but he's eating lunch and it's really a vital step if I'm to continue. Do you want to be responsible for delaying this any longer than necessary? I could get Mr. Briere…" She could almost picture his eyes crossing as he tried to focus on what she said.

Weighing her request carefully, he eyed her warily. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just look through this viewer until you see green. I'm going to make a quick adjustment." She noted his hesitation then added, "look, you can keep your gun on me the whole time. I'm going to be right here."

Still unsure but seeing no harm, he let her guide him to the viewer. "Here?"

"That's right," she said. "Just look in there. I'm going to make some minor adjustments and I need you to tell me when you see green." With his eyes safely averted, Kate quickly seized the tools from the table then slightly turned a black knob half a degree.

"It's green," he said, lifting his eyes to find her still standing where he left her.

"Okay, I'm going to move it again. Take another look." With the probe conveniently attached to the magnetic tweezers, she stealthily slipped both items into her boot then moved the knob in the opposite direction so that Marco only saw red. Smoothing out her pant leg, she moved the knob again.

"It's green."

She flashed a beaming smile at Marco. "Thanks, that's all I needed."

Marco moved away, distancing himself from this immense contraption that frankly, scared the hell out of him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Karl's looming presence several yards away. _How long had he been there?_ An uncontrollable chill ran down her spine as she replayed her movements in her head. He couldn't have seen her, she was sure of it. He might have seen Marco staring into the viewer but Lightning Bolt would have shielded his view of her.

Karl passed a wayward glance in her direction then wandered up to the flying bridge. Settling himself in the single chair, he propped his feet on the railing and leaned his head back, obviously intent on soaking up the afternoon sun.

Kate let out an almost audible sigh of relief.


	7. Chapter 7

It was nearing noon when Maxwell Briere, with Emil Carag trailing closely behind, strolled to Kate's side. "And how is it progressing my dear?"

"Quite well, I think. I've increased the output and hopefully reduced some of the vibration."

"You've performed admirably today. Why don't you take a short break and have something to eat. Daniel has saved you one of his special seafood club sandwiches."

Kate started to say no but the growl in her stomach overrode her. Besides, the probe was stabbing her in the foot and desperately needed to be readjusted. "I think I will." Stepping away from the device, she turned to Marco, "come along, my little follow along friend." The comment elicited the tiniest of smiles from the stone face.

"Just a minute, Dr. Manning," Briere cast a discerning eye over the tray of instruments and tools, his mind processing a rapid inventory. "There seems to be a few items missing."

"What?" She turned abruptly, nearing slamming into Marco.

"Don't play dumb with me, Dr. Manning. Do you not think I don't know how you and the admiral are conjuring up an escape? Come now, Doctor. I am certainly a great many things but I am not a fool. I don't believe for a minute that your admiral would sit by passively while we, you, perfected something as potentially destructive as Lightning Bolt. Why, I could almost smell the little motors of his mind whirring away." Briere turned to Karl who, upon seeing Briere's return to the bow, bolted from his chair and darted down the stairs. "Why don't you fetch the good admiral?"

"You're insane," Kate countered defensively.

"Probably," he retorted calmly, edging his way towards Kate. "Mother was quite mad. Nevertheless, there are several items missing." He looked past Lightning Bolt, past Kate. Karl and Nelson were just emerging onto the deck, the admiral shielding his eyes against the bright sunlight.

Kate strained to see what Briere saw and felt her stomach knot. She knew what was coming.

"The reason I've brought you here, admiral, is that Dr. Manning has taken it upon herself to abscond with an instrument or two that I believe would be used in some way to undermine this operation. To cause either permanent damage to Lightning Bolt or," his eyes shifted to Karl, "to aid in your escape perhaps?" Briere turned to Kate, his hand outstretched. "Would you please hand them over?"

While Kate hesitated, Karl placed his hand firmly on Nelson's left shoulder and slowly increased the pressure, his fingers digging at tender tissue until at last the admiral cried out, grabbing his arm and dropping to his knees at the nearly blinding pain.

Kate felt the growing knot in the pit of her stomach twist painfully. Without another thought she lifted her pant leg and pulled out the magnetized tweezers with the attached probe, placing them in the palm of Briere's hand.

Briere smiled graciously, returning the instruments to their place with the others. Turning abruptly on his heel, he brought his hand up with incredible speed, striking Kate across the mouth.

Kate recoiled from the blow not so much from pain but from surprise.

Still on his knees, held up only by Karl's hand still locked onto his shoulder, Nelson was oblivious to the events around him. Intense, screaming pain filled every thought in his head, every bone in his body. Twice he fought the blackness and twice he had come back to himself only to start drifting once again. Finally, the grip slackened and immediately, he felt himself falling forward, unable to control the impending impact with the rapidly approaching deck. Thankfully, he lost consciousness before he hit.

Kate wiped away the dot of blood on her split lip, biting the inside of her cheek in a frantic effort to control her quaking emotions. She was petrified—for Harry, for herself.

"Captain," Briere called out.

The man instantly appeared at Briere's side. "Sir?"

"Can you please tell me if there are any other vessels in the area?"

"In a moment sir." The man disappeared, returning minutes later. "Sir, there is a small craft 8 miles due east."

"If I remember correctly, Dr. Manning estimated Lightning Bolt's range to be 10,000 yards or a little over 5.5 miles. Captain, would it be possible to shadow that vessel at a distance of 5.5 miles?"

"Why yes, sir."

"Then, why don't we. I want us to maintain a distance of 5.5 miles for the next 2 hours."

"Aye, sir." The man turned on his heel and left.

"Dr. Manning," Briere's eyes passed over the barely conscious admiral, watching the man with interest as he feebly attempted to right himself. "In a little less than two hours, two o'clock by my watch," he continued, "you must prove to me that Lightning Bolt is fully operational or I will kill the admiral and dump his wretched remains overboard." His piercing black eyes seemed to laser right through her. "Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Karl reached down and grabbed Nelson by the left arm, wrenching the limb awkwardly, extracting a cry of pain as hot needles drove through his shoulder and down his arm. Evident by the dark red stain that seeped through the makeshift bandage, Karl's rough handling had undone whatever healing the wound was making.

Although she desperately wanted to end Nelson's torment, Kate hesitated. She knew Briere's intentions: to test Lightning Bolt's power on that distant boat. And after the previous display, she was confident it could…it would…destroy the craft. She thought of the people on board; the innocent lives. And then her eyes dropped on Harry, his face a tortured picture of complete agony. There was little doubt left in her mind that Briere would do what he said. He had made that point clear in the beginning. _God, what should I do?_ In the back of her mind, Harry's words carried: _The life of one man isn't worth the devastation Lightning Bolt could reap upon the world. _ But the life of that one man was worth it to her. She would agree and live with the consequences.

"Yes," she answered weakly, "perfectly clear."

Nelson slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers but Kate turned away, unable to return his gaze. She knew what he would have wanted and hopefully someday they would both be alive to argue about it.

~oOo~

"It's ready?" Briere's eyebrows arched in anticipation.

"Yes, it's ready. I did as you ordered. It's warming up now and you should have full power in about ten minutes but either you or Carag are going to have to control it. I won't be responsible for anything more than I've already done."

Briere bowed to her wishes, permitting her to step aside while Carag, eagerness highlighting his face as he stepped up to the machine. Kate edged away, joining a haggard Nelson who was leaning rather precariously against the capstan and holding his shoulder. Briere climbed up to the flying bridge, perching himself behind the pair of long ranged binoculars, searching the waters until he spied the unsuspecting boat.

The captain stood outside the wheelhouse, calling out the readings, "Humidity: seventy-two percent. Winds: southwesterly at eight miles per hour. Range: five point five miles. Helmsman, come ten degrees NNW and cut the engines."

The hum became more and more noticeable, causing a light vibration in the ship until at last a bright light arced over the stern of the ship and raced almost two hundred feet above the surface of the water. Briere's shrieks of glee were almost drowned out by the hum that had now reached a fevered pitch as the current of electricity intensified.

~oOo~

Off in the distance, the _Donna Marie_, a 150-ft trawler, idled languidly over the area known as the Clarion Clipperton fracture zone. It was here, 15,000 to 18,000 feet down on the deep-sea floor between Baja California and Hawaii, that manganese nodules were collected off the bottom where they sat on the mud. Processed for their copper, nickel, cobalt and manganese, the nodules were crushed and pumped up a pipe to the surface ship.

Mining the manganese nodules wasn't as lucrative as it had once been. It was difficult to compete with land-based deposits because of the cost involved to get them to the surface. Additionally, mining on a private basis was not a profitable enterprise. But the seven crewmen, three marine geologists and two geophysicists that made up the _Donna Marie_ were optimistic that ocean mining would once again be a plentiful treasure. And today, the vast market was theirs: with the exception of the large research ship one of the crewmen had spotted earlier that morning, there wasn't another discernible vessel for at least a hundred miles.

~oOo~

"Bullseye! Direct hit!" Briere yelled, throwing his fist triumphantly into the air.

Kate helped Nelson over to the railing. Squinting, the single puff of black smoke far off on the horizon was easily visible to the naked eye. Kate turned away in disgust, appalled at the thought that she could be responsible for the death of innocent people.

"Dr. Manning, you're brilliant!" Briere called out from his position on the flying bridge. "It performed magnificently!"

Kate closed her eyes, trying desperately to keep the images of death and destruction at bay. She didn't want to think what effect a direct hit might have on a human body but she could definitely speculate.

Nelson gripped the railing until his knuckles were white. He could feel the surge of anger welling within him but knew he was powerless to act. Casting a glance in Kate's direction, he noticed the look of anguish set in her expression and gently placed his hand on hers. Whatever he felt paled in comparison to what she must be feeling.

~oOo~

One hundred fifty feet below the surface, less than 200 yards from the _Donna Marie_, instrumentation on board _Seaview_ registered the concentrated electrical surge moments before the entire submarine went dark.

"What the hell!" Chip Morton exclaimed, immediately checking the boat's status.

Lee Crane sprinted into the Control Room. "Chip, what happened?"

"I have no idea," he answered, picking up the intercom to call Engineering then realizing even communications was affected. "We're dead in the water. Gyro controls are inoperative, guidance control is gone and we're sinking fast."

Lee kept his voice low, out of earshot to the rest of the crew, "What's the depth here?"

"Seventeen thousand feet, keel to bottom," Chip answered in a grim voice that matched his expression. "We're in the middle of the Clarion Clipperton."

"That's just great. There's not a ledge within twenty miles of here."

Just as soon as each crewman began to get the morbid sense they were on their way to being crushed at a depth well beyond _Seaview_'s capacity, the main generators kicked in. The immediate chatter over the intercom told the officers that communications were also back on line.

"Engineering, this is the exec. What's our status?"

"Some kind of electrical interference, sir. Everything appears to be operational now."

"Kowalski, can you pinpoint the source of that interference?" This time Crane asked the question.

"I'm not sure but it definitely came from the surface. There's something else, Skipper."

"What is it?"

"Just before it hit, there was a boat on the surface about 200 yards from us. It's gone now."

"Could it have moved out of the area?"

"I don't think so. Not that fast. She was pretty heavy."

"Probably collecting manganese nodules," Lee explained to Chip. "As soon as we're able, get us up to periscope depth." Lee wanted a look around the surface. "There could be survivors and I'd like to know what hit us."

Chip, absorbing the incoming damage reports, nodded, "With a little luck we should be able to blow ballast."

~oOo~

"I can't believe it Harry. Every person on that boat…gone. Obliterated by something they didn't even… My God, what have I done?" She closed her eyes and for a moment, he thought she would faint. Gripping the railing tightly, she steeled her jaw and looked at him with questioning, sorrow-filled eyes.

"You did what you felt was right, Kate. Either way, it was an impossible decision to make." He spoke the words with an odd sense of emotion. She was upset because she chose his life over those faceless unknowns in the boat. Of course he was grateful for his life but was it the right decision? Would he have done the same had the roles been reversed? With some trepidation he felt enormous relief that this time the burden wasn't on him to make that decision. He had been there too many times. Something Briere had said earlier reverberated in his head: _I don't know these people. They mean nothing to me. Whether they live or die is of no importance to me_. He didn't agree with Briere when he spoke those words but how untrue were they? It was easy to save the life that was before you and sacrifice the ones that weren't. Kate's decision came from the heart. Although she was brought up with a strong military influence, the theory that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few just wasn't ingrained in her conscience.

Someday, when she felt like talking, he would explain about the unavoidable guilt and the justification and rationalization that comes later, about the dark places in your mind where you store the memory and hope to forget about it. He would be able to answer all her questions because he knew.

A shiver ran through him, bringing him out of his reverie making him aware that Kate was no longer by his side. She had moved a few feet away, standing all alone with her arms gathered tightly to her chest. Cradling his throbbing left arm he leaned heavily against the railing and surveyed the expansive blue water, an expression of grim determination settling on his features.

~oOo~

From his vantage high over the main deck, Briere watched Kate carefully. She had disappointed him more than she would ever know. Still, Briere was confident she hadn't thought the scheme up herself. Nelson! It was obvious he had put her up to it. And now, no matter what happened, she was of no further use to him. Yes, he was displeased but in the end, he really didn't mind too much: she had served her purpose. Lightning Bolt was up and running. Carag, ridiculously loyal to the hand that paid him, could easily accomplish any additional changes. Discreetly attracting Karl's attention, he motioned for the henchman to join him.

"I fear Dr. Manning is losing her usefulness to me," he said in a low voice as soon as Karl was beside him. "And once Dr. Manning loses her usefulness to me, the admiral becomes nothing more than a liability."

"You'd like me to dispose of him then?" Karl grinned at the prospect.

"I don't see why not."

"And what of Dr. Manning?"

Briere let out a remorseful sigh. "She too will have to be… eliminated."

"The admiral I can understand but why kill the woman?"

"Replication, dear boy, replication. As long as she's alive, there is always the possibility of replicating Lightning Bolt. She did it before; she could very well do it again." Briere paused, as if he had finished, then began again, "When the time comes, make it a clean shot. I don't want her to suffer." Turning away, he removed his hat and ran a pristine white handkerchief over his smooth head. "The admiral's demise is purely at your discretion."

While Briere started down the stairs, Karl stood fast, fixated on the woman. Such a waste, he thought watching her dark hair blow loosely in the breeze and remembering his one brief touch before Nelson…

Absently stroking his jaw, he was still acutely aware of the lingering soreness.

~oOo~

"Skipper, I'm picking up another ship."

"Coordinates?" Crane asked, peering into the periscope and sweeping the area one more time only to find nothing but debris littering the surface.

"130 degrees W, 12 degrees N."

"Down scope," he said, leaning against the railing of the periscope island. "Sparks, see if you can raise that ship. I'd like to talk to the Captain." Turning to Chip, "Maybe they can tell us something."

Looking up at Crane and seeing the frown etched on his face, Chip asked, "What's it look like up there?"

Lee shook his head. "There's not much left to tell."

"Those trawlers are pretty big. Maybe there was an explosion on board."

"No, if she had exploded, there would be more debris, smoke…something. It almost looks like she disintegrated." Leaning towards the radio shack, Lee called to Sparks, "Do you have that ship yet?"

"She's just coming through now."

~oOo~

"Mr. Briere, can you please come to the radio room?"

Briere, just reaching the main deck, turned on his heel and sauntered up the stairs to the wheelhouse.

"Sir, the _Seaview_ is out there and she's hailing us. Would you like to speak to her captain?"

Briere shot an excited look in Nelson's direction. "_Seaview_? By all means, yes. I'd like very much to speak with her captain."

The radioman held up the phone. "I have Captain Crane of the _SSRN_ _Seaview_ on the line."

Briere held the phone for a brief moment before speaking. "Captain Crane, Maxwell Briere of the _Falconer_. How may I be of service to you?"

"Mr. Briere, we registered a very large electrical surge several minutes ago and are now picking up surface debris. Tell me sir, have you experienced anything out of the ordinary?"

Briere maintained a look of concern as his inner wheels churned. "As a matter of fact, captain, yes. About a half an hour ago there was a slight surge in power but it only lasted a few minutes. We are operating with a very precarious generator and I just put it down to our equipment." He paused to muster concern then continued, "If you registered it below the surface, then it must have been something significant." Briere was hopeful the _Seaview_'s captain would disclose what effect Lightning Bolt had on the submarine.

No matter how sincere and cooperative this man sounded, Crane still remained guarded. "No, nothing significant."

"Now that I think about it, captain, I do seem to recall there was another ship out there—collecting manganese nodules, no doubt. We seem to have lost contact with them. Perhaps that was the source of the anomaly. My radioman tells me he received no distress call."

"Nor did we."

"Tragic," Briere commented, managing to add a twinge of sorrow to his voice for effect. "I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful, captain."

"That's quite all right. Thank you for your time."

Briere handed the phone back to the radioman, a smile as wide as a Cheshire cat's lighting his fleshy features as he scuttled down the stairs and onto the deck. "Dr. Carag!" he called, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, "I want Lightning Bolt ready for immediate use!" Sidling up to Karl, he spoke softly, "What we discussed, why don't you take care of it now. Once he finds out what our target is, he's apt to cause considerable problems."

Concealing his mounting excitement, Karl merely provided a curt nod.

Before Karl could leave, Briere seized his arm and hissed, "Not up here, mind you. Not in front of the woman—I don't want her to know. Take him below to the Hold, perhaps. Yes, that would be the best place."

Again, Karl nodded then made his way across the deck towards the admiral.

Standing alone, his eyes settling on the unsuspecting admiral, Briere spoke to no one in particular, "Pity really. I would truly love to see his reaction when he saw his beloved _Seaview_ destroyed. Megalomaniac indeed!"

~oOo~

Hearing word of a second target and seeing Carag scurry to make Lightning Bolt operational once again drew disquieting looks from both Kate and Nelson. Before they could react, Karl was waving Nelson forward with the barrel of his gun.

"Mr. Briere says you go below."

Nelson shot Kate a reassuring smile before Karl's hand came crashing down on his injured shoulder. Nelson tensed, waiting for the pain to pass before he could take another step. "It might not have occurred to you," Nelson muttered tightly, "but I was cooperating." Gripping his left arm at the elbow, he continued his slow steady walk.

Taking the familiar path to the lower deck and the storage locker, Nelson was slightly alarmed when Karl motioned for him to take the passageway towards the stern. "This way. You're spending the rest of this trip in the Hold."

Nelson shrugged offhandedly but did not let Karl's wry grin go unnoticed.


	8. Chapter 8

"Do you know what the target is?" Kate asked Carag rather nonchalantly.

Carag eyed her suspiciously. He had never really forgiven her for what he considered a crass response to his very sincere offerings. What was more, he found her affection towards that pretentious, pugnacious excuse of an admiral a further affront to his opinion of her. He had never forgiven Nelson for publicly referring to him as an odious windbag. "I'm sure I don't know."

"May I remind you about the delayed power boost? You might want to inform Mr. Briere."

Kate strolled away but stayed within earshot. Her woman's intuition was on overdrive and she desperately wanted to know what this new target was. Something was definitely amiss. Briere had made a point of leaving Harry on deck to watch the proceedings and now, suddenly, he was being hustled down below? In her mind, it just didn't add up. Passing furtive glances towards the passageway that led to the stairs below, she nervously tapped her hand against her thigh. How long did it take to lock Harry in the storage locker? Karl should have been back by now.

Furrows knitted across Briere's brow as he appeared at Carag's side. "Inform Mr. Briere of what?"

Carag glanced nervously toward Kate. "It's something we…er, Dr. Manning hasn't been able to work out. The more power it expends, the longer it takes to recharge itself. After the previous disbursement, it will take at least twenty minutes to reach full power."

"That is unacceptable Dr. Carag! We can't wait twenty minutes. _Seaview_ could move out the area any moment and be lost to us." Briere looked directly at Carag, narrow eyes piercing the little man. "I've already had one disappointment, Emil. I don't believe I could tolerate a second."

Paralyzed as cold fear coursed through his already frozen veins, Carag nodded his understanding and flipped the switch. The hum was low, almost inaudible at first. With a shaking hand, he tapped the glass, hoping the lack of power the needle was registering was merely an aberration. Slowly, and much to his relief, the needle worked its way up.

~oOo~

_Seaview_! Kate recoiled at the name as horror pulsed through her. No wonder Briere wanted Harry out of the way! He knew how Harry would react and so did she: he'd do anything to protect the sub and her crew or die trying. For Harry's sake, Kate couldn't stand by and let Briere destroy _Seaview_. There had to be something she could do; she had no other choice.

Already she could hear the low hum, the steadily increasing vibration as Briere and Carag busily entered the coordinates. Fortunately, she doubted Lightning Bolt had enough time to send a serious charge through _Seaview_. She pushed away the intrusive thought that Harry might already be dead. Karl still hadn't returned and now that she had washed her hands of the whole project, Briere had no further use for Harry. Or her, for that matter. It was the time for the courage and utter disregard that had thus far evaded her. Well, damn it, Kate Manning wasn't going to go without a fight! She still had a few minutes to think of a diversion.

~oOo~

The sound of the powerful diesel engines grew considerably louder as they circumvented the passageway that led to the musty, unctuous dampness of the hold.

Before proceeding through the hatch, Nelson paused and turned towards Karl. "Since it's becoming increasingly apparent you have every intention of killing me, do you mind telling me why now?"

Karl smirked at the question. He relished in the idea of telling Nelson what the intended target was. Glancing over his shoulder in a purely instinctive action, he didn't see what difference it made.

"Here looks as good as anyplace," Karl said, turning sharply towards Nelson, the gun leveled at the admiral's stomach. "It appears we've been incredibly lucky. Not only did we stumble upon that hapless ship but now we've also found a second target. I believe you know her. _Seaview_?"

_Seaview_? Nelson repeated the name as a tremor cut through him like a knife. For a moment he could see nothing but white as his world spun quickly before his eyes. Silently seething, his right hand clenched into a tight fist as he tried with every ounce to control the impending rage.

"You know, Briere says I get to choose how to dispose of you. At first, I thought a shot to the head. But that would be too quick. And then I remembered reading about being gut shot. Painful, lingering, an altogether horrible death. I think that's what I have in mind for you." Motioning with the gun, "through there."

Thoughts of _Seaview_, of the 125 crewmen, his friends, his family, filled Nelson's head, consumed him. Blindly, he obeyed Karl. He had just cleared the watertight hatch and entered the engine room when Karl abruptly grabbed him by the left arm and wheeled him around.

Before Nelson could react, Karl's right fist slammed into Nelson's jaw. "I owed you that one."

The force of the punch knocked the admiral into the bulkhead, his right arm impacting hard with a pressure release valve. With great concentrated effort and fighting against immeasurable pain, he forced his left hand up, quickly disengaging the valve then rolling away as a vent of steam struck Karl squarely in the chest. Startled, Karl let out a yelp as he backed away but not before Nelson struck. With a week's worth of restrained and repressed anger behind him, Nelson hit Karl with one solid cross that knocked the henchman off balance. He landed hard against the starboard side diesel oil tank. Lunging for the gun, Nelson squared his knee on the man's chest and fixed the weapon squarely at Karl's heart. As much as he truly wanted to, as much as he envisioned it happening, Nelson just couldn't pull the trigger. Satisfied that the man wasn't a concern, he feverishly tried to think of a way to contact _Seaview_, to warn her of the imminent danger before it was too late. Rubbing his hand through his hair and feeling the almost uncontrolled sense of panic that threatened to cloud his thinking, it was then that he remembered the pivot rod still tucked away in his shoe.

Using the same metal steam pipe that had inadvertently saved his life and a learned knowledge of Morse code that came from a long career in the Navy, Nelson slowly began tapping out his message to _Seaview_, pleased at the resonant ping of metal on metal. He knew he had to be brief and concise. If _Seaview_ could hear him, the radioman on the _Falconer_ most certainly could too.

~oOo~

_Seaview_ was buzzing with sound and movement. While Captain Crane checked the progress of repairs to engineering, Chip Morton oversaw the diagnostic tests on almost every piece of equipment in the control room.

"Mr. Morton," Lee said, strolling purposefully into the control room, "make preparations to get us underway."

"Aye, aye, sir." Chip started to bark out orders when a shout from Kowalski overrode him.

"Skipper!"

Crane, followed by Morton, was quickly at his side. "What is it?"

"On the hydrophone, I'm picking up something that sounds like Morse code, sir. It's faint but there's no mistaking it."

"Sparks, can you make this out?"

Sparks bolted from his chair and took the headset from Kowalski. "It's definitely Morse, sir." A large grin spread across his boyish features. "And I think I recognize the sender. It's Admiral Nelson, sir!"

Crane tried to fight back the excitement that still managed to creep into his voice. "Are you sure?"

"Sir, I'm almost positive it's the admiral."

A broad grin crossed Crane's dark features as his hand smacked the bulkhead in excitement. "What's he saying?"

Sparks motioned for a pen a paper then quickly deciphered the code as Crane leaned over his shoulder and read aloud: "_Seaview_…danger…get away…now." Just as Lee finished reading the message, the lights flickered and several panels, including sonar and the hydrophone, began to smoke and spark as circuits overheated and blew.

Lee and Chip exchanged glances. "Whatever sunk that boat is after us now! Chip, get us out of here."

Chip grabbed the intercom and shouted the order to proceed ahead at full speed just as the boat lurched violently, scattering bodies across the deck.

~oOo~

"Continue the assault!" Briere shouted from his vantage on the flying bridge, the white arc falling over the empty water the only visible sight. The _Falconer's_ captain assured him that _Seaview_ was still out there but without a visual on the great submarine, they were firing blind. But Briere wasn't about to give up. He wanted to destroy _Seaview_ more than anything else. It had progressed well beyond a test now.

Trying her damnedest to look disinterested, Kate scanned the deck, looking for anything to disable the arc but Marco stood very close, his hand resting on the handle of his gun.

"Mr. Briere!" the crewman raced up the stairs and spoke in a voice too low for Kate to understand. She could, however, gather from his animated gesticulations that whatever he had to say somehow involved Harry.

His anger apparent, Briere spoke rapidly to the crewman then gave the innocent man an impatient shove. The crewman quickly disappeared down the stairs then ran along the passageway aft.

Allowing herself a slight smile, Kate felt a little confidence returning. Whatever was happening was happening because Harry was well and truly alive, of that she had no doubt. _Leave it to him to cause a ruckus!_ She was also willing to bet that whatever Harry was up to explained why Karl had yet to make an appearance. Kate wandered closer to the table of tools and instruments, only to be brushed away by Marco.

Piercing the air as it slowly climbed to full power, the hum was considerably louder now. At Briere's orders Carag pressed the switch at 15-second intervals sending the white arc of electricity streaking across the blue sky until it connected with the water. Five miles away the first casualties in Lightning Bolt's blind assault on the ocean floated to the surface. Scorched seabirds unlucky enough to have flown through the current plummeted to the water. Broadbill swordfish, yellowfin tuna, amberjack and small schools of Dorado, enough to make either a serious angler or steadfast conservationist cringe, continued to populate the surface.

Nelson could feel the vibration against the bulkhead and knew that if his attempt wasn't already picked up and the _Seaview_ was out of the area, it was all going to be pointless. _Seaview_ would be defenseless again the electrical charge Lightning Bolt would deliver. It would only take a matter of minutes before every circuit would be blown, before the boat would sink to the bottom like a stone. Shaking away the thoughts, he didn't have time to think about such atrocities. Resounding footsteps on the metal grating told him his message did get through - at least to the _Falconer_. He was about to have company.

~oOo~

Lee picked himself up then offered a hand to Chip. "Any chance of finding out what's hitting us?" They still had some power but not for long. "Sparks, can you raise that ship?"

"I'm trying to sir but they aren't answering."

"On purpose or by accident?" Lee had to shout above the annoying din of the klaxon. "Can you shut that thing off?"

"The circuits are fried. It's shorted out!" Chip yelled back.

"As near as I can tell, they've turned their radio off, sir."

Kowalski wheeled around. "Skipper, I think I've got a bead on the source. It's that ship, the _Falconer_. One hundred thirty degrees west, twelve degrees north."

"Are you positive that's the source?"

Kowalski hesitated, checked the reading again. There was no denying the current originated from quite a distance and there was no other source in the area. "I'm positive."

"That makes it intentional in my book," Chip muttered, gingerly rubbing his hip after being thrown against the sonar panel.

The sudden eerie silence of the klaxon caused the crew to draw a simultaneous sigh of relief.

"Engineering, this is the Captain. Any chance we can maneuver?"

"It's doubtful, sir," came the reply from Engineering. "We have some maneuverability in the aft engines but port and starboard engines aren't responding. About all we can do right now is blow ballast."

"Well, that's just great. We're sitting ducks out here!" Frustration fighting a hard internal battle, Lee caught himself before he completed the action of throwing the intercom down.

"Lee," Chip started, struggling to keep his feet under him by grabbing hold of the plot table as the boat rolled again, "if that ship is what's causing this, we have one chance to stop her. If we don't do it in the next," he glanced quickly at the gauges, "three minutes, we'll lose the angle and the ability."

Lee stared long and hard at Chip's unflinching expression. One thought ran continuously through his head. "Chip, if the admiral…"

Another fire broke out near sonar as Kowalski bolted out of his chair. "Lee," Chip's voice was steady yet forceful, "just because the Morse resembled the admiral's code is no guarantee he's on board. Besides, you know as well as I that the admiral would never sacrifice _Seaview_ to save himself."

Lee absorbed what Chip said but his plan wasn't to lose either one. "Sparks," he shouted above the din, "how certain are you that the code was the admiral's?"

"Ninety-nine percent, sir."

With blue eyes as set in stone trained on his commander, Chip Morton calmly replied, "It's the one percent that kills you."

"Sir," Sparks called out again, "I'm not ruling out the possibility that someone else could send code the way the admiral does but I'm about as positive it's him as I can be. The admiral always adds an extra letter, like a stutter."

Several pops followed by a loud explosion hit _Seaview_, nearly knocking both men to the floor. Lee knew he had to make a decision and it had to be fast. Everything Chip said was right. But he just couldn't do it. Call it a gut feeling but he was certain the admiral was on board that ship. Picking up the intercom, his eyes fixed on Chip's, Lee took a deep breath, "Chief, ready number one for firing." Lee relayed the ship's last known coordinates then stared at Chip.

"It's a good thing those fish can find their own way," Chip muttered, knowing full well they were probably firing blind but confident the torpedo would eventually find its target.

Chip's words echoed in Lee Crane's head. It was almost ironic, he thought. The admiral had been instrumental in getting these newly designed "smart" torpedoes that could execute a programmed target search and conduct multiple re-attacks if they missed the target. Now, one of them could very well be responsible for his death. His _death_. Earlier in the week Lee had convinced himself that his friend, his _best_ friend, was dead. And now he was certain that he was alive; that he had sent that message.

Lee closed his eyes and forced himself to remember. He knew he was doing the right thing - what the admiral would want him to do. Chip was right: the admiral would never sacrifice _Seaview_ just to save himself. If the roles were reversed, if Lee were the one aboard that ship, he was certain the admiral would make the same painful decision. And spend the rest of his life regretting it, as Lee Crane would do. But this was battle and in battle, sacrifices were made. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Wasn't that written somewhere in the rules of warfare?

Sharkey's voice reverberated over the intercom. "One ready for firing."

Lee and Chip exchanged hard glances. "Fire One!"

In the Missile Room, Chief Sharkey's hand was on the button. He heard the order clearly and quickly executed…but nothing happened. "What happened?" he yelled, ripping off the headset.

"We lost power, Chief. The whole thing went dead."

"Can we get the generator going? I want enough juice to get this fish outta here."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Chief, answer!" Lee shouted into the intercom.

From the Radio Shack, Sparks tested switches, "No good, sir. Communications are gone."

Lee tossed the intercom across the plot table. "Chip, take over. I'm going to the Missile Room to see what's happening. Sparks," Lee paused, realizing his temper was on a short fuse, "I don't care if you have to string cans just get communications working again."

"Yes, sir."

Lee hit the passageway and ran all the way, nearly knocking down several rushing crewmen in the process. "Chief, what happened?" he asked as he entered the Missile Room.

"We were just about to fire, my hand was on the button, and we lost power. It's loaded and ready to go. There's just no juice."

Patterson jogged up to the two men. "Skipper, I think we can get just enough power to fire off one shot."

"We're sitting blind right now. We don't even know if we're in range."

"Captain Crane?" It was Chip's voice crackling over the intercom.

"Chip!" Lee barked.

"I don't know how we're doing it but we're holding our own at 50ft. The mains are out but we've managed to get the auxiliaries back on line," he paused a beat then continued, "I don't for how long."

"Do you have a visual on the ship?"

"Yes, sir. They are still in range and you have a clear shot at the starboard bow."

Lee put the intercom down. "Fire one!"

Sharkey mashed the button with the palm of his hand. "Number one fired." Both men exchanged anxious glances, silently praying, waiting for impact.

Back in the Control Room, Chip, too, waited anxiously for confirmation that the number one torpedo was away. Seconds after his last communication with Lee, the auxiliaries failed, leaving the entire boat powerless. _Seaview_ was drifting into an uncontrolled dive.

~oOo~

With his back pressed against the bulkhead, Nelson waited for the crewman to enter. Spying the wavering gun in the shaking hand of a very nervous crewman, the admiral easily grabbed the man, forcing him hard against the bulkhead and pressing his forearm against his throat.

Petrified, the young man quickly splayed his arms out to his side and let the gun fall harmlessly to the deck.

"Are you alone?" Nelson mouthed silently.

The man, trying to swallow, nodded rapidly, relief washing over him as Nelson released his grip.

"I'll let you live," he bluffed, "if you get off this ship now." Nelson was tempted to thump the young man but the look of fear in his eyes told him that he really wasn't a threat. He doubted the man would have ever pulled the trigger on the gun and given the amount of diesel fuel in the room, he was incredibly thankful.

The crewman glanced haphazardly at Karl's prone, unconscious form, his eyes widening. Anyone who could overpower Mr. Karl certainly earned his respect. "I can't swim."

"Then get a life jacket. If I see you again, I'll kill you." Nelson waved off the young man, encouraged when he saw him head straight up the aft stairs. Checking the passageway, Nelson followed suit.

Sixty seconds later _Seaview's_ number one torpedo tore into the _Falconer's_ bow. A single explosion reverberated through her hull as the big ship began taking on water.


	9. Chapter 9

Like the rest of the _Falconer_, Kate Manning had taken a hard tumble to the deck seconds after the abrupt explosion somewhere in the bow section of the big ship. Stirring uneasily and brushing the hair away from her face, Kate put a hand to her aching head. It didn't take much supposition on her part to comprehend what had just occurred: somehow, _Seaview_ managed to fire on the _Falconer_, successfully hitting the ship below the water line. And Harry was somewhere below.

Before her mind could begin conjuring images of his fate, the emerging cacophony from the bridge and the overriding hum of Lightning Bolt impelled her. _Seaview_ provided the diversion; now was her chance to make something of it.

_Size up the enemy before you attack and hit their weakest point_, her father had once advised as young Kate the tomboy was about to embark in her first scuffle with the neighborhood bully. With his words in mind, she glanced quickly to the flying bridge just in time to see Briere awkwardly heave his corpulence off the deck. Even from her distorted vantage Kate could discern the contorted bitter anger upon his face. Glancing to her right, Marco was sprawled motionless across the deck, obviously a casualty after colliding headfirst with the hard surface. Presently, the only thing between Kate Manning and _Seaview's_ destructive force was Emil Carag.

Springing to her feet like a nimble cat, Kate hit low, striking the surprised doctor well below the belt. She took great solace in seeing the man she had earlier referred to as 'vermin' double over and unwittingly sink to his knees as something akin to a squeak escaped his lips. Stepping over the fallen man, Kate kept low, using Lightning Bolt's platform to shield her from plain sight. Inching her way to the instrumentation, she quickly reset the coordinates. The white arc continued to pulse freely but now _Seaview_ was no longer its target.

~oOo~

Chip grabbed onto the plot table as the boat pitched noticeably to port, righted itself then rolled again. Calling to the helmsman, "Maintain neutral buoyancy!"

"Sir, I'm trying but she won't respond!" The boat rolled again, toppling the crew of the control room to the deck.

Reaching for the intercom and praying there was enough juice to get his message out, Chip shouted into the instrument, "Captain Crane, come in!"

Nothing but the sound of Chip's own voice echoed back.

Heaving himself quickly to his feet, "Clark, lay aft to engineering. Tell the captain we've lost trim and we're sinking. Tell him we'll be at crush depth in," he checked the fathometer and did a quick calculation, "twelve minutes. Get going—on the double!"

Negotiating the rocking and rolling corridors with learned experience, Clark raced out of the Control Room, repeating the Exec's message over and over in his head.

Seaman Clark moved deftly through the corridors, steadying himself with one hand on the bulkhead as _Seaview_ suddenly lurched sideways, neatly threading his way around his fellow crewmen, several of whom were walking wounded, until he reached engineering.

The scene in engineering was chaotic. Fire details and repair crews ran an orchestrated race, securing stations amid the grayish white smoke that accompanied a flurry of electrical fires. At the center of the action stood Chief Sharkey and Captain Crane.

Sharkey wiped the perspiration from his brow with the back of a dirty hand, leaving a grimy streak on his forehead. "Right now I think about all the juice we can muster is powered by hamsters in a wheel. Main generators are still down and it'll take days to repair the damage. I think we're looking at a complete overhaul. We've got about thirty-five percent of our auxiliaries. They're giving us what we need to function for now but I'm not holding my breath."

Clark skidded to a halt and nervously interrupted, "Begging your pardon, sir but I have an urgent message from Mr. Morton." The young man took a deep breath and continued, "Sir, Mr. Morton said to tell you we've lost trim and we're sinking. He said at the rate we're descending, we'll be at crush depth in twelve…" he remembered the minute it took him to race here, "eleven minutes."

Crane's mind flew into overdrive as he searched and found a solution. "Chief, Clark, come with me!"

The air in the circuitry room was heavy with the acrid stench of electrical fires, many of which were still smoldering. "Chief, how long will it take to reroute all remaining power to the engines? The air may get a bit foul and we'll be in the dark but at least we'll still be floating."

"About eight minutes, Skipper," he answered, already tearing off the panel.

"Make it six. Clark, get back to the control room. Tell Mr. Morton to reverse all engines in six minutes by my watch…I make the time 1824 hours." As Clark disappeared, Lee grabbed a flashlight and did his best to keep from hovering over Sharkey, grateful when the chief asked for his help.

"I think we'll make it, sir. It's just a matter of rerouting his circuit here and…got it." In response the entire boat went dark. A few seconds later, _Seaview_ hummed as all engines reversed at full power. Neutral buoyancy was restored in a matter of minutes.

The chief let out a noticeable sigh, both from relief and fatigue, while Lee collapsed against the bulkhead, a thankful smile emerging on his tense, dark features. "Good work, chief."

Sharkey grinned sheepishly, as he always did when compliments were passed his way. "We're just lucky the reactor hasn't shut down."

The two men were interrupted by the distinct sound of wheezing coming from the open hatchway. Clark, preceded by a yellow wash of light, stepped inside the compartment. "Mr. Morton reports we are holding at 3,800ft."

~oOo~

Now, as he realized all his planning, all his hard work was slowly sinking, Maxwell Briere's well-tempered anger was boundless. Stumbling down the steps to the vacated bridge, he pillaged through the various supply lockers until he found the last remaining 9mm handgun and two spare magazines. As he tested the weight in his hand, ran his fingers over the cold, smooth barrel, it was hard to believe Briere was a man who abhorred guns.

Glimpsing the once dedicated crew running like lemmings towards the railing, he took aim and fired, assisting each man in his haste to leave the ship. Satisfied the dissenting crew was no longer an issue, he turned his attention to Dr. Manning.

~oOo~

The force of the explosion had knocked Nelson's feet out from under him, sending him crashing against the unforgiving metal stairs. With the brunt of the force falling on his injured shoulder, he had easily succumbed to the darkening pain that quickly consumed him.

The sound of gunshots from somewhere aboard the ship slowly stirred his senses. Shifting his body and fighting against the pain that spread across his chest, numbing his arm, he slowly inched his way up. Reaching the landing of the lower deck and using the railing to lever himself to his feet, he half staggered, half ran through the slanted passageway. With Karl's gun hanging loosely in his right hand, he expected to encounter at least some of the crew once he made his way forward. He was surprised when he did not.

Hesitating at the base of the companionway that opened onto the main deck and regaining some of his strength, he lowered his body and cautiously crept up one step at a time. Arriving near the top, he paused. Hearing no noise, no approaching footsteps, he crawled awkwardly along the passageway until he found an unencumbered view of the bow. What he saw paralyzed him.

For a large man Briere moved with incredible alacrity. It was this nimbleness that allowed him to slink undetected behind her. Grabbing Kate by the hair and jerking her awkwardly to her feet, he carefully avoided the radius of the pulsing white beam arching aimlessly across the ocean as he tugged and pulled her along. Not cooperating by any means, Kate put up her own fight. Lashing out behind her, she caught his shin with the heel of her boot, only succeeding in making him angrier.

Pointing the barrel of the pistol under her chin, he increased his vise-like grip on her. "Admiral Nelson!" he yelled. "I know you're there, admiral. You, your _Seaview_," he spat the word with considerable contempt, "took something from me. Now I'm taking something from you."

Disregarding everything else to obey one single impulse, Nelson bolted to his feet and stepped out into the open. "Briere!"

Hearing Nelson's voice, Kate tried to turn only to feel the pressure on her neck tighten.

"Admiral Nelson. Something told me this might attract your attention." Moving as one with Kate, Briere inched towards the beam of pulsating energy. "Won't you please drop the weapon?"

Seeing no other option, Nelson did as he was asked.

"I want you to know, admiral, that although I did have every intention of killing both you and Dr. Manning, I did so hope that Dr. Manning's death would be quick. I truly did not want to see her suffer. However, seeing how the two of you conspired against me, I have no choice but to make her death painful for the both of you."

As Briere, with Kate in tow, edged towards Lightning Bolt, Nelson realized what was about to happen. The thought sickened and horrified him: if Kate came into direct contact with the arc, she would easily be seared alive.

"Briere, no!" he shouted. "If you want someone to suffer, shoot me but let her live. She never conspired against you." It was obvious now that Briere was quite mad, that the only way to reason with him was to indulge him. Seeing a remote spark of interest in Briere's eyes, Nelson continued, "I forced her to take those tools, to help me. It was all my idea. I contacted _Seaview_."

Listening to Nelson's words instilled abject horror in Kate. She knew he was trying to divert Briere's attention to himself, to make himself the target, and she wasn't about to stand for it. "No," she replied evenly, "he's lying. I did everything I could to conspire against you. I despised you and this entire project from the onset." If she thought could have reached him, she would have spat in his face to emphasize her point.

Knowing Kate made a much more convincing argument, Nelson dropped his head and felt the nauseating sickness swell. "Kate…no." The two words, spoken as a whisper, were heavy with anguish as he closed his eyes against what was about to happen.

~oOo~

Beads of perspiration raced down the side of Chip Morton's face, gathering on his jaw and slowly dripping onto his already dampened shirt. With a relieved sigh, he relayed the latest news: "Well, there hasn't been another report of fire or blown circuits in almost an hour. Engineering has a technician running diagnostics on all pumps and switches including the gyrostabilizer. We've got eighty-five percent of auxiliary power back online, the reactor is running a little hot but under control and we're still floating. Think it's safe to assume the worst is over?"

Lee wiped his hand across his brow and leaned on the plot table. "Not until we get rid of this oppressive heat."

"The Environmental Control System is out. A repair crew is working on it now." Glancing at the almost incomprehensible reading from the temperature gauge for the second time, Chip stripped away his tie and loosened his shirt collar. "Temperature is 98 degrees and still climbing."

Lee picked up the intercom and pressed the button, getting nothing in return but dead silence. Slamming it down, he turned to Chip and spoke rapidly, the frustration apparent on his face. "And communications is still out!" Breaking his usual staid appearance, he too loosened his tie and collar. His burst of anger quickly quelled, he now spoke with a restored quiet calm, "Have a repair crew check out the Flying Sub."

Lee didn't have to explain why he wanted FS-1 checked out. Chip and every man in the control room knew. Although he would deny it, Lee was as anxious as a nervous cat. Chip knew the minute _Seaview_ was safe and secure, Lee begin the search for the admiral.

"Kowalski, you heard the Skipper, get a couple of men and check out the Flying Sub."

"Aye, aye, sir." Kowalski, excited to have something to do besides stare at a dead sonar screen, jumped up. "Smitty, Evans, come with me."

Kowalski opened the hatch leading to the FS-1's berth and a puff a white smoke wafted up. Waving away the cloud, Kowalski, with the two men following closely behind, disappeared down the ladder.

It took Kowalski and his repair crew half an hour to discern that the damage to the Flying Sub wasn't too bad and should only take a couple of hours or so to repair. He got a disgruntled frown from the Skipper when he added the "or so" but he hastily added that he would have a better idea once he tore the panel off and got to work.

Twenty minutes later, Lee gave the order to surface.

Forty-five minutes later, after having to manually release steel ballast in order to counter the inoperable main ballast, the _Seaview_ successfully breached the surface and one hundred and twenty five men breathed a collective sigh of relief.

~oOo~

Kate's scream and two gunshots echoed across the water, causing Nelson to quickly look up. Kate lay in a crumpled heap on the deck. Next to her was the unmoving form of Maxwell Briere.

Unable to fathom what had just transpired, Nelson lunged for Kate, falling to his knees at her side and scooping her up in his arms. Searching for any outward signs of a wound, he was alarmed, relieved and confused when he found none. Giving her face a gentle pat, he almost fell over when her eyelids fluttered open and he found himself staring into the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen.

"If you ever do that again, Kathleen Manning, I swear I'll…"

"You'll what, Admiral Nelson?" she asked, a loose grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as she struggled to sit up.

He fell into a sitting position and ran his hand over the back of his head, a look of relief washing over his rough features. "I'll be dead from a heart attack, damn it!" he replied with feigned exacerbation. His demeanor softening, "What happened?"

"It was Marco. Briere always said he was a good shot. He wasn't kidding."

"Marco? Why would he save your life?"

"Don't ask me how or why but I think in some odd way, we bonded." She caught his skeptical frown. "Harry, at this point, does it really matter?"

He shook his head. "No, I guess it doesn't." The loud hum attracting his attention, he was pressed into action by several items that did matter. Hampered by the increasing inclination of the deck as the ship creaked and groaned and shifted further into the water, Nelson struggled to get to his feet. "I think it's high time we did something about this," he said at last, supporting his left arm at the elbow.

Doing a double take at the sight of Carag's unconscious form, curled in the fetal position near the platform, Nelson gestured with his thumb. "What happened to him?"

Kate was just getting to her feet. "I decked him," she answered nonchalantly.

Cocking an eyebrow, the admiral shook his head and let out a deep, disbelieving sigh.

As he gave the pulsating beam the wide respect it demanded, Kate drifted towards the prone, lifeless body that lay near the railing. Unlike Briere, Marco had not died instantly. Kneeling beside him, her hand gently lowered the eyelids, covering the unseeing stare that focused intently on the blue sky above.

"Thank you," she said in a whisper that sounded much louder in her own ears once she realized the loud hum was silent.

A sudden explosion deep in the belly of the hull sent her tumbling onto the deck.

A master at balancing himself on rolling vessels, Nelson managed to use the Lightning Bolt's platform to brace himself when the second explosion hit. Reaching Kate as she was lifting herself off the deck, he took her by the hand and quickly led her aft.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a hint of annoyance at his abrupt behavior.

"Getting you off this ship," he replied sternly.

She stopped suddenly, her hand jerking free from his and sending a noticeable tremor of pain through him. "Whoa!" she said, feeling miserably regretful seconds later for the discomfort the action caused.

Instinctively grabbing his shoulder, he took a deep breath, waiting several minutes for the blazing pain to cease so he could continue. This last explosion and the resulting smoke that was billowing up from the lower deck were merely indications of what was coming. He wasn't going to argue with her this time.

The pain now tolerable, he continued on his way. His expression set with iron determination, he found what he was searching for: a single rubber dinghy secured to the side of the ship just along the outside passageway.

"Help me with this," he said with such command she automatically did as he asked. Standing close to the side, they lowered the raft into the water then lashed it to the cleat with the length of line.

Unhooking the chain that ran across the gangway, he urged her forward. "I want you to jump. When you hit the water, get into the dinghy as soon as possible. It will provide suitable insulation against any residual current in the water. Once you're in the dinghy, get as far away from the ship as you can. When she goes down, you need to be far enough away or you'll get sucked into the turbulence."

Firmly taking hold of the railing and trying to move away from the opening, she shook her head vehemently. "I told you, I'm not going anywhere without you."

Nelson huffed impatiently. "I'm not going to debate this with you. There's no time. That smoke means the hold is on fire. In a few minutes there's going to be another explosion."

"And what about you? You can't swim—not with that shoulder"

"I want to try to raise _Seaview_. I can work much faster if I don't have you to worry about." Seeing the obstinate look in her eye, he realized how difficult he must be at times. "Kate, I'll be fine. There are plenty of life jackets on board and…"

"No," she argued emphatically, "I'm not leaving you."

Exasperated, he made a swift decision. Impulsively slipping his hand around the nape of her neck and drawing her close, he placed an ardent kiss upon her lips. "I love you, Kate Manning," he said in an even voice, blue eyes blazing intensely. He knew it was a bit underhanded, picking this moment to say the words he had never openly professed before. He had hoped to say them under different circumstances but he knew what effect they would have. And he might never get another chance.

Stunned beyond words, her grip on the railing loosening as she openly gaped at him, he took the opportunity to give her a firm push.

"You'll thank me for this," he called out, watching as she hit the water almost 20ft. below then safely floated to the surface and swam for the waiting dinghy. As she hauled herself into the boat and he saw the irate scowl directed at him, he rethought what he said: maybe she wouldn't thank him after all. Unlashing the line and knowing she was finally safe, he felt as though a huge worry had been lifted from his shoulders.


	10. Chapter 10

As Kate paddled her way across the open water, silently cursing his name with each brisk stroke, Nelson stumbled along the narrow outside passageway until he reached the bow. A rumble from below sent him scurrying up the companionway to the bridge and into the deserted wheelhouse. Aware that his time was limited, he flipped every switch on the radio then picked up the mike.

"Admiral Nelson calling _SSRN Seaview_. Come in _Seaview_." Getting no answer, he repeated the call.

~oOo~

Aboard _Seaview_, Sparks did receive the call. Unfortunately, that was all he could do. With communications still precarious at best, the radio was receiving but not sending. Still, he couldn't believe his ears when he heard the unmistakable voice on the other end.

"Skipper!" he yelled excitedly. "I've got Admiral Nelson on the line!"

"What?" Lee raced to the radio shack very nearly bowling Chip over in the process. "Let me speak to him."

"I'm sorry sir but all I can do is receive."

Lee's shoulders dropped noticeably but he quickly squared them again. The admiral WAS alive! "What's he saying?"

"Right now he's just calling."

~oOo~

Although he couldn't physically speak to _Seaview_, Nelson continued as if he could. He was well aware of the erratic stability of communications and after the electrical barrage that _Seaview_ had been through, he knew the radio might be the first thing affected. Of course, the thought that _Seaview_ might not be out there never entered his mind. Ever the optimist, he persisted.

"_Seaview_, just in case you can hear me…"

~oOo~

Seeing the concentrated look etched into Sparks' boyish features and unable to control his excited impatience, Lee pressed again. "What's he saying now?"

"He's still on board the _Falconer_. He set Dr. Manning adrift in a dinghy—he estimates that she's currently about 30 yards off the _Falconer's_ starboard side. He wants us to pick her up, if possible."

"What about him?"

"He was just about to say but the transmission ended. The line's dead."

His sense of urgency now almost uncontrollable, Lee turned quickly to Chip, "How much longer does Kowalski estimate?"

Chip, already anticipating the question, had a ready answer: "Just over an hour."

~oOo~

The first bullet broke the window and hit the radio, just missing the admiral's head by inches. Dropping to the deck with a grunt, two more bullets sent a shower of glass around him. Crawling to the hatch opening, he peered out, scanning the area for the gunman. It was merely a confirming gesture; he knew there was only one person it could be.

Keeping one eye on the bridge hatch, Karl raced across the bow, seeking cover behind Lightning Bolt's platform. Startled by the sight of Carag, Karl rolled the unconscious man toward the bow then with one hard kick, sent the engineer hurtling over the side. Wiping blood from his eye with the back of his hand, he quickly scanned the switches and gauges, turning the most obvious one and grinning with satisfaction when he heard the faint hum.

Lying low on the deck of the bridge and recovering some of his depleted strength, Nelson felt the low, building rumble in the hull seconds before another explosion ripped through the ship's stern sending debris, smoke and flames high into the sky. The ship lurched violently, pitching viciously to the starboard side and flinging Karl into the capstan and leaving him gasping for breath.

Nelson stumbled to his feet and in his haste almost toppled headlong down the companionway, only just managing to catch himself. As he hit the landing, his eyes fell upon something black and shiny on the deck. The pistol he had dropped earlier! Scooping it up and feeling the hairs on his neck suddenly prickle, he hit the deck as a beam of energy fired over his head, sending a flurry of sparks and smoke directly astern. Momentarily dazed, it took several nervous seconds to realize that the last explosion had dislodged Lightning Bolt's transceiver. The device was now randomly targeting the failing ship.

Spurred by a rush of adrenaline, Nelson rolled to his right then scooted clear of the beam and staggered to his feet, stopping cold.

Karl's gun was aimed directly at him and the man's grip was steady.

"Look," Nelson began hastily, "that machine is going to destroy what's left of this ship." As he spoke, an errant beam flashed to his left, while the roar of flames, fueled by the aged, dry wood raced along the port side several feet away.

Startled by the approaching fire, Karl took his eyes off Nelson for a split second. With his shoulder lowered, the admiral plowed into Karl like a halfback driving through a defensive line. Karl fired erratically as he and Nelson became entangled in a flurry of fists and kicks. Feeling the heat of the flames against his leg, Nelson grabbed Karl's arm and repeatedly slammed his hand against the deck with as much force as he could muster until finally the gun dropped, sliding harmlessly across the inclined deck and falling into the water.

Karl forced his knee upward, wedging it between himself and the admiral, then kicked out, knocking Nelson backwards, squarely onto the deck. Pain seemed to scream from every bone but there wasn't time to react. Before Nelson could move, Karl was on him, levering a massive forearm against Nelson's throat while pressing the whole of his weight onto Nelson's body, pinning the admiral's right arm underneath him.

As he fought for breath and consciousness, Nelson became vaguely aware of intense heat pressing closer and the continual hum as Lightning Bolt continued to deliver its pulsing energy. Another explosion rocked the ship but neither Karl nor his iron hold waned.

Nelson, gathering every viable ounce of energy, every last ounce of strength, forced his left arm up, wedging the palm of his hand under Karl's chin, forcing his head back until at last the man broke his hold with a shout of pain.

There was no time to rest. Rolling aside to avoid the approaching flames, then scrambling to his feet to avoid Karl's impending lunge, Nelson watched wearily as the man crashed through the railing and plummeted headfirst into the water below.

The move, while relatively uneventful, nearly dropped the admiral to his knees. His every move became a force of will, a struggle against piercing pain and total exhaustion. Bent over with his hands on his thighs, he watched the red droplets fall onto the deck. Examining the fresh crimson stain on his shirt and feeling the sharp stab in his left side, he realized Karl's erratic shot hadn't been so erratic after all.

Another explosion flattened him against the deck. The boat lurched, buckled as the main bunker ignited and blew. Black smoke billowed upward as the boat began to sink rapidly. Nelson pulled himself up, steadying himself against anything he could find and edged his way to Lightning Bolt's instrumentation panel. Turning one single switch, he shut the contraption off then staggered backward several feet. Stretching out his hand, he grabbed the railing then awkwardly hoisted himself over the side. He let go at the same time one final explosion blew apart the remaining evidence that the _Falconer_ ever existed.

Nelson hit the water backwards, sinking like a stone under the surface.

~oOo~

Kate was still drifting in the dinghy long after the _Falconer_ rolled onto her starboard side and sunk. Standing in the raft and nearly pitching herself into the water, she scanned the distant waters, silently praying for any sign of Harry. If she could trust her eyesight, she was almost positive she had seen him jump into the water. Or was it just wishful thinking? Debris littered the surface, hampering her view to the extent that she quickly kneeled down and began feverishly paddling her way back towards the sight of the wreckage.

She only got a few feet when something caught her eye. Alarmed yet intrigued, she froze in fear as the water to her right churned violently and a bright yellow object floated to the surface. Her fear quickly turned to relief when a few minutes later, a man in scuba gear appeared at the side of the dinghy.

Peeling off the mask, he flashed the most disarming smile she had ever seen. "Dr. Manning, I presume?"

"Yes," she answered, instinctively knowing she could trust this man.

"I'm Lee Crane, captain of the _Seaview_. Permission to come aboard?" Not waiting for her to reply, he lifted himself easily onto the raft and with Kate's help, removed his air tanks and flippers. "Any sign of Admiral Nelson?" he asked taking the oars and making short work of the distance back to the Flying Sub.

Her eyes dropped as she quickly looked away. "I'm certain he got off the ship before she went down."

Lee felt a stab at the impact of her words and stopped rowing long enough to scan the surface, squinting under the setting sunlight that reflected off the water. "We'll make a thorough search in the Flying Sub before we head back and I'll send a team out to search the area." Purposefully catching her eye, he spoke with clear purpose and conviction, "If he's out there, one way or another, we'll find him."

Seeing the determination in his eyes and sensing a deep loyalty, Kate had no doubt that Captain Lee Crane was a man of his word.

~oOo~

Lee Crane strolled to the admiral's cabin, a spring in his step that had been noticeably absent for the past few days. He knocked lightly, heard the muffled, "come in", and opened the door. Freshly showered, she looked remarkably different than the first time he had seen her. He couldn't recall ever seeing the one-piece blue jumpsuit looking quite so becoming on anyone before. It was obvious she had been crying yet she forced a lopsided smile as he entered.

"Dr. Manning, Doc would like to see you in Sickbay right away."

Kate eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

"I believe he just wants to make sure you're all right."

She let out a deep sigh that bordered on irritation but acquiesced. As they headed towards sickbay, Kate asked the question that, up until now, always managed to catch in her throat. "I don't suppose you've found…" Knowing full well the captain would have immediately informed her, she didn't know why she felt compelled to ask the question. The sun had long set and she knew it was futile to continue the search in the dark.

She could almost swear Captain Crane smiled as he opened the door, letting her pass. Her face brightened at the sight that greeted her.

"We found him in the water not twenty minutes ago," Lee began, doubtful that she heard a word he said as the whole of her attention focused on the bruised, bloodied, very wet and extremely unkempt form of Admiral Harriman Nelson.

~oOo~

Holding an x-ray up to the light, Doc shook his head in disbelief. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are?"

Lying on the examination table, his colorless face a consortium of pain, fatigue and faintly, relief, the admiral's gaze wandered slowly from Lee to Kate. "I do but I think you're going to tell me anyway." He grimaced as the Corpsman expertly inserted the first of two IV lines.

"You're lucky the trajectory of that bullet went out instead of in and all you ended up with are two broken ribs and a little less blood. It could have been much, much worse." Doc set the x-ray down and moved to the admiral's side. "That shoulder is a different story. The bullet nicked the musculocutaneous nerve. That accounts for the tingling in your arm and hand. I'm optimistic the sensation should subside in a couple of months. When we get back to Santa Barbara, you're looking at surgery. You've got some tendon and ligament damage that'll need to be repaired. As it is, you're going to be awfully sore for the next six weeks but I really don't have a reason to keep you here longer than a couple of nights if you promise," Doc briefly locked eyes with Kate, "to take it easy. Between those ribs and that shoulder, I don't think you're going to feel like doing much for at least a week but I know your penchant for pushing yourself."

With Kate present, the admiral seemed a little more amenable than usual. Sensing the effect she seemed to be having, Doc decided it was safe to assert his authority, something that would never fly ordinarily. "Remember," he cautioned, "if you go jostling yourself around and cause further injury to those ribs, you could find yourself right back in here with a punctured lung." Doc took a step back and waited for the expected protest.

The admiral nodded his understanding. He was dead tired, in more pain than he would admit and not really in the mood to argue. "Whatever you say," was his only response.

Shooting disbelieving glances from the admiral to Dr. Manning to the captain, Doc crossed his arms smugly. Had he been a peacock, Kate was convinced he would have strutted his plumage around the room.

Waiting until the corpsman finished with the final dressing, a grinning Lee Crane moved closer to the bed. "What you won't do to get out of a budget meeting…"

Nelson started to laugh, catching himself when he realized the amount of pain the simple gesture caused.

"Doc's right, you know," Lee continued. "You're very lucky. But then, we've always known that."

"Yes," Kate interjected, her hand reaching for his. "It's that Irish luck of his. Harry wasn't born, you know. He was found under a four-leaf clover."

"How's _Seaview_?" the admiral asked drowsily. The morphine was starting to take effect and slowly the pain was beginning to subside.

"A little worse for wear but otherwise okay." Lee downplayed the extent of the damage. Right now, he didn't want to burden the man with the long list of problems especially when he doubted the admiral would be awake to hear them.

"Fine," he responded with a weak nod. Finding it nearly impossible to keep his eyes open, he drifted off to sleep, his fingers still entwined with Kate's.

~oOo~

"Admiral, I thought Doc said two days? I'm surprised he let you out of Sickbay so soon."

"Good behavior," Nelson replied dryly, immediately noticing his captain's doubtful smirk. "All right, it wasn't good behavior. He released me into Kate's care." He put down the report he was attempting to read and frowned at Kate. "I'm not sure Sickbay isn't a more viable option."

Lee stifled a laugh but still caught Kate's raised eyebrow. The admiral was not one to welcome being fussed over.

"What's our course, Lee?" The admiral, his left arm encumbered by the collar and cuff Doc insisted he wear, was sitting in the Observation Nose with Kate at his side.

"Pearl, admiral. We've got at least a week's worth of repairs to make. I've radioed Professor Byers at the Cetacean Lab and told him of our delay. Chip is taking the Flying Sub to deliver the more urgent supplies."

Nelson crossed his legs, noticeably grimacing as the small movement caused a rush of pain.

Kate put her hand on his shoulder. "Take it easy, Harry. You heard what Doc said. It's going to take a while for those ribs to heal. Overdo it and you're going right back to Sickbay."

The admiral waved her off, impatiently. "I know, I know."

Lee smiled. She certainly wasn't afraid to give the admiral orders. And what was even more incredible, the man seemed to have the patience to put up with it.

Until he met Kate Manning, Lee Crane would have argued that he knew Harriman Nelson better than anyone else but now he realized he had so much more to learn about the admiral. In the last 24 hours, Lee had come to see the admiral as she saw him: not as the head of the Nelson Institute or as the architect of _Seaview_ or as a commanding officer or as a scientist but merely as a man-a man as normal as he himself was.

Still in contemplative thought, Lee asked a question that had bothered him since hearing the admiral recount the entire adventure. "There's one thing that has me puzzled. Why wouldn't you want Lightning Bolt salvaged? As I understand it, that's the only prototype and all the blueprints were destroyed. I would think somehow the concept could be put to good use."

Nelson struggled out of the chair, allowing Kate to help him. "Lee, Lightning Bolt and the blueprints weren't entirely destroyed." He winked at Kate who flashed a knowing smile in return. "Two people know where it is," she took him gently by the elbow and guided him to the hatch, "and we aren't saying." The two left the observation nose, leaving behind a puzzled Lee Crane.


	11. Chapter 11

Epilogue

Reclining in a lounge chair on the eighth floor lanai of the Hale Koa, Admiral Nelson was presented with a sweeping view of the sparkling blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. Or might have had he been awake to see it.

Kate Manning tapped lightly on the door to his "deluxe ocean view" room in the Ilima Tower before extracting the key he had given her and letting herself in. She smiled warmly as she spied him on the lanai, a light offshore breeze ruffling his hair as he slept.

Passing the TV, Kate paused to hear the news as a reporter spoke of the onset of war in some remote part of the world. As the camera panned burned out villages and fleeing women and children, Kate felt a deep sense of regret. They had tried so hard to prevent something like this from happening but in the end, men just found other ways to reap devastation on one another. The story ended and another followed but Kate found the off switch before more gruesome images could populate the screen. Now wasn't the time to be depressed, she thought, gazing fondly at the dozing man. Now was the time to rejoice at just being alive.

Stepping onto the lanai, she bent slightly and brushed his forehead with a light kiss.

Blue eyes gazed dreamily into hers. "I was just thinking about you," he said with a twinkle.

"You were?"

"Uh, huh." His eyes lightened noticeably.

"Given you're current incapacitated state and the vehemence of your doctor's orders, I don't think I want to know details right now."

He admired the floral wrap draped loosely around her hips. "Some things are best left to my imagination." Cringing slightly as he sat up, he took her hand and urged her onto the lounge chair. "I don't suppose you've seen anything of my crew?"

"Well, you've got a large contingent down on the beach, girl watching. Lee and Chip are attracting a small, yet devoted following at the pool and several of the men headed up to Haleiwa to surf." She scanned the view. If she craned her neck, she could just see Diamond Head over to the left, beyond the mass of hotels that wandered toward the ocean. Before them was the panoramic view of the Pacific, sail and tourist boats dotting the horizon. "Well, at least one of us has a magnificent view."

"Rank does have its privileges," he replied offhandedly. "How's the water?" He could feel the dampness of her bathing suit against his leg.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Wish you could have joined me."

"Doc has already threatened me within an inch of my life. I'm not going to press it."

She regarded him in earnest, his casual remark a fresh reminder as to why the unscheduled stay in Honolulu was necessitated—for the crew as well as _Seaview_. Kate casually leaned forward, gently laid one hand on his cheek and kissed him, slowly edging away.

"Ah, not that I'm complaining in any way but what was that for?" he asked, a sanguine grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

Her eyes twinkled coyly. "Oh, saving civilization from your basic diabolical megalomaniac," she answered with an air of facetiousness. Once again pressing forward, she kissed him, lingering just a bit longer than the first time.

The admiral sighed in amazement. "And that?"

"For pushing me off the boat."

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "After the scowl you gave me, I thought you'd be ready to kill me."

She grinned forgivingly. "I was…at first. But remembering what you said on the deck just before you pushed me made me forget my grudges. Did you mean it?"

"I did…and still do."

With a devilish look in her eyes, she framed his face with her palms and bent forward, lips meeting in an infinitely passionate kiss. Inching away slowly, she was pleased to see the slightly disjointed, extremely disconcerted look on his face. He was momentarily speechless.

In a familiar gesture, he ran his hand along the side of his head, absently smoothing the hair over his right ear. "Whatever that was for," he stammered, "I need to do it again."

"That one was just because I wanted to," she answered nonchalantly, her eyes betraying her insouciance.

"I like that reason the best."

"Want to think of other reasons?" she asked pressing closer.

"Uh, huh," he nodded, eyes flitting from her eyes to her lips then back again.

"You're sure you're up to it?" They were millimeters apart.

"Just don't 'jostle' me," he replied with a mischievous grin.

THE END


End file.
